


Touch and Go

by Mister_Rat



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Alternate Canon, Background Music for the Chapters, Canon/OC Friendship, Character(s) of Color, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on deviantArt, Family Feels, Interracial Relationship, Multi, Multiracial Character, Original Song, Polynesian Character, Protective Mom, Sappy, Sibling Love, Single Parents, So Expect Musical Cues, Time Skips, Use of Spanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mister_Rat/pseuds/Mister_Rat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helga gets more than she's bargained for when her plan to keep an eye on Arnold's "little brother" gets a few hiccups...but the results aren't quite what she expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only own the non-canon characters!

' _Steady. Aim…'_

FOOP!

A freshly chewed spit wad made a perfect hit on its target: the back of a football—shaped head with unruly yellow hair and a tiny blue baseball hat.

' _Bull's-eye…'_

Direct hit…as usual…

Right on cue, the owner of the oddly-shaped noggin shifted around in his seat swiftly to glare calmly but irritably at the blonde offender in pigtails.

The aforementioned offender hissed in seeming annoyance,

"What?"

The oddly head-shaped youth shook his head in silent exasperation at the blonde girl's antics before redirecting his attention to the teacher.

' _Oh_ _ **Arnold**_ _, you twit,'_ scoffed the blonde female mentally, 'y _ou lovable, yet impossibly dense twit! If only there was a better way in which I could reveal my gooey, mushy passion for you, my love.'_

Yep, typical day…

Well, _almost_ typical…

"Class," chirped Mr. Simmons, a deceptively young man whose balding hair belied his youthful enthusiasm. "I'd like for everyone to meet a new, special face, today."

Everyone's voices hushed immediately at the word 'new.'

A new face...?

Huh, interesting— the fourth grade class hadn't had any newcomers lately.

' _Wonder what poor stooge got stuck with us this time,'_ mused the Pataki girl amusedly.

Just as long as the "fresh meat" was nothing like little Miss Perfect…

Otherwise Helga G. Pataki was in for more irritation than before.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

"I'd like to introduce you all to—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I annoyed you guys with this short chapter, then my mission is accomplished! X)


	2. A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own Hey Arnold! Dang it! :(

"I can't believe it. Arnold's little brother…in our _class_ room? And a second-grader, no less…! Why, this is simply unheard of!"

"While I'm quite sure there's a logical explanation for his transference to our grade, Rhonda, I must admit…his appearance in our classroom _is_ quite astounding."

The current conversation was taking place in the school cafeteria. The whole place was filled with students hustling and bustling to sit down in order to eat, socialize, goof around, or do whatever the heck kids do when out of a classroom's authoritative atmosphere.

Right now, Helga and Phoebe were sitting at their usual table. This time, however, they were in the company of Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, the rich (and snobbish) self-proclaimed fashion diva of P.S. 118, and other girls from Mr. Simmons's fourth grade class.

Unsurprisingly, the main topic of conversation was none other than the new kid himself.

Speaking of which, Helga, for the second time that day, took a nonchalant glance at her new "classmate."

He was currently seated between Arnold and Gerald (surprise, surprise) and seemed to be uttering a few words to Sid and Stinky. Whatever the little guy said, the two goofballs seemed to be in stitches about it if their hysterical crowing was any indication.

The blonde Pataki girl had to raise half her unibrow as she recalled the newcomer's name.

' _Milo Mahana, huh? Well, I'll give the little shrimp points for alliteration at least. '_

Funny, though... some part of her deep, deep down made her feel as if she should've found him familiar.

' _Criminy, what am I thinking?'_

What _was_ she thinking? She didn't even know of the kid's existence until this morning.

Anyway, what was it Simmons said about Milo again?

" _ **Milo, you see, is a young man with great, great potential, just like all of you!" Simmons exclaimed with a gesturing sweep that indicated the entire class.**_

" _ **But, it turns out that because of this potential, Principal Wartz was concerned that Milo wasn't being challenged enough in his original grade."**_

Wasn't being 'challenged' enough?

Okay, seriously, how could Helga _not_ smirk in amusement?

She dared a more thorough, scrutinizing look at the boy with unruly, black hair.

Short—the kid was really short.

Doi…

He was rather dark-skinned as well—about the same skin tone as Gerald, in fact, albeit a bit darker.

The boy's clothing wasn't anything special—a basic blue T-shirt with a diagonal red stripe, dark brown shoes, and khaki shorts.

However, the one detail about the little guy that really caught Helga's attention was the dingy sketchbook he was carrying under his right arm.

' _Huh… doesn't look like the kind of kid who could give ol' Pheebs competition.'_

Then again, Helga once thought the same thing about Lila…as did the rest of her classmates.

Speaking of which…

"So what do you girls think? Should we just let him figure things out on his own or take him under our wing?"

"Gosh, I don't think the second one's such a good idea, Rhonda. Remember the last time we did something like that?" piped up local nature girl Sheena mildly.

"I'm afraid I must concur with Sheena. In fact, Milo seems to faring quite well so far," Phoebe, the school brainiac, added matter-of-factly.

"Oh relax! We're not going to swarm over the kid like we did Lila," Rhonda assured her peers condescendingly with an eye-roll, "I'm just suggesting that we give the kid some pointers…just in case he might need some for a rainy day."

"Welp, good luck with that little endeavor princess!"

With those words stated, Helga proceeded, in her own usual charge-ahead flair, to rise from her chair and then gravitated away from the table.

Rhonda arose from her seat, affronted (in a dignified way, of course).

"Um, _excuse_ me, Helga, but just where do you think you're going?"

"Doi… I'm getting some milk so I've got something to wash down my meal…. What does it look like?"

Rhonda, at the very least, became miffed at the blonde's flippant answer...

"Helga! Are you telling me you aren't even the least bit concerned or at least interested about—"

The Pataki girl's voice cut through Rhonda's question like a rifle shot through a target.

"Hey, don't forget, princess! The shrimp is _Arnoldo's_ younger brother. If Mr. Goody Two Shoes can handle all of _us_ on a daily basis…"

As if on cue, a noise from the boys' table caught the attention of the majority of students in the cafeteria (including the attention of Helga and her lady peers).

Apparently, Harold, being the bright boy that he was, had unfortunately chosen the moment he was chugging down milk, of all times, to guffaw gutturally at whatever he just found comical.

The end result…

Twin spouts of white liquid from Pink Boy's nose, a spectacle that wasn't too dissimilar from the process that occurs with a certain part of cow anatomy…

Poor boy had to bang his own chest and cough to get the creamy liquid out...

Everybody in the cafeteria—from the students to even the cafeteria ladies—went up in hysterics.

…except Arnold, who simply chuckled, and Milo, who slightly grinned amusedly before returning his eyes to his food.

' _My point proven…'_ , Helga mentally concluded smugly.

"Then one little kid should be a walk in the park for him," Helga continued, explaining as if the matter was a simple division problem. "Besides, for all we know, the kid might be some carbon-copy of the ol' Football-Head."

Just like a Pataki death glare, that last statement evaporated the entertained mood above her table.

All of a sudden, somebody cleared their throat. Helga shifted her eyes to the source: her best friend. All the other girls seated focused their attention to the Japanese-American girl as well.

"Helga," Phoebe spoke up, placing the tips of her fingers together in a respectful but meditative manner," don't you think you're being rather presumptuous? Yes, perhaps Milo may be influenced by Arnold _a tad_ but-"

"But he could be a great kid with a charming and unique personality, yadda, yadda, yadda! Look, Pheebs, as far as _I'm_ concerned, as long Helga G. Pataki and the half-pint stay out of each other's way, it's all business as usual. And that's that."

Helga even snapped her fingers on the final sentence as she stomped away.

' _Oh Helga...,'_ Phoebe dejectedly thought.

That girl could be so stubborn.

"Hmph, just ignore her, girls! Now where were we again?"

Wherever the conversation went after Rhonda's words, Helga would never know.

She didn't really care anyway.

In fact, as soon as she was sure she was out of earshot of her female peers, Helga quickened her pace (just a bit—there were still potential witnesses after all) across the cafeteria towards, not the lunch line, but the cafeteria _doors_.

The moment she emerged into the vacant expanse of the hallways, Helga removed from the confines of her white undershirt a golden, heart-shaped locket.

A picture of a smiling, half-lidded Arnold gazed tranquilly back at the blonde holder, who, now free of the wandering eyes and ears of her peers (for the moment), proceeded with the following monologue:

"Oh, Arnold…Arnold...! Why must fate be so cruel? Is it not satisfied by the fact that we both must suffer eternally—you with your loving heart and noble though slightly misguided sense of reality…and I with my tender sense of compassion, buried deep within by my most petty of childhood fears?"

Taking a momentary pause in her soliloquy, Helga let out another girlish swoon.

"But no…now…now there sits one of your kin, a silent but knowledgeable observer who knows not yet of the cruelties hidden behind our peers' smiles and laughter. A young spirit whose silence no doubt belies something wonderful yet far beyond the meek understanding of our foolish associates…"

Suddenly, Helga drew a glare—ah, but not a glare of anger.

No, this glare was of determination.

"Worry not, my love! Though you are, no doubt, entitled as this boy's guardian, I shall ease thy burden…by blessing this child with kindness and understanding. Never shall my accursed pride or temper do injury to this soul. On this vow, my beloved, I do by vow. Forever and alwa—"

**Wheeze…wheeze…wheeze**

' _Oh joy,_ _ **this**_ _again.'_

And right before the last word…seriously?

Turning her head in annoyance, Helga glared behind herself to see none other than Brainy, wheezing and grinning weirdly like he does every day.

"Uh, hi...Helga" greeted the asthmatic with an awkward wave.

Oh well…

' _As usual…,'_ mused Helga indifferently as she turned her back on him.

Up went Ol'Betsy…

Down went Brainy on the cold, unforgiving hallway floor…again…

' _Sheesh,'_ Helga exclaimed in her thought as she stomped away from the scene, her eyes focused at the body lying prone on the floor, ' _you'd think he would've at least waited a few more seconds to let me fin—'_

**BOOM!**

"OOF!"

All of a sudden, Helga, just like Brainy, found herself prostrate on the floor, her body sore from the impact she just inadvertently received.

"Are you alright!"

Almost on instinct, she raised herself and opened her eyes to see none other than...

"Arnold!"

Who was indeed kneeling on the ground on knee and staring at her in surprise.

"I mean, sheesh, Football Head! Is bumping into me an obsession of yours or some—"

But then the blonde girl's eyes widened the moment they finally noticed _other_ details.

For example, Arnold _was_ in front of her, but he wasn't the one on the ground, nursing a bump on his head.

That honor went to Milo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment please!


	3. Surprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hey Arnold! Seriously, how many times do I have to say this?

Indeed, the diminutive, newly dubbed "fourth-grader" was deeply rubbing his forehead. Both eyes were squinted in discomfort as their owner nursed the aching bump on his tiny cranium.

"I'm sorry, Helga! I shouldn't have distracted him like that!" cried out the football headed boy in genuine concern. His golden-toned hand lay on Milo's shoulder as the two boys' friend, Gerald Johanssen, kneeled down to their level.

"Hey, Mi! You okay, man?" The African-American "Keeper of the Tales", too, sounded rather concerned for the younger child.

The sepia-toned boy simply turned to Gerald soundlessly and nodded.

"Good! Cause he won't be when I'm through with him!"

Several gasps popped out from the observers, filling in the hallway now that lunch had concluded, that surrounded Arnold, Gerald, Milo, and Helga. No one had expected for the little guy to invoke the iron-fisted queen's wrath already, at least not on his first day!

Instinctively, Arnold and Gerald positioned themselves in front of the smaller schoolboy. There was _no way_ in Helen Keller they were going to let _Helga_ , of all people, lay a finger on Arnold's younger brother!

Said blonde, however, finding Arnold and Gerald's actions almost laughable, merely rolled her eyes before narrowing their fiery focus on the youngster who stood behind the two older boys.

For some odd reason, though, he looked more curious and confused than apprehensive.

' _Looks like what this shrimp needs then was a good ol' case of Pataki fury...'_ P.S. 118's iron-fisted queen mused. _'Man, I'm going to hate my guts after this!'_

So without further ado, aiming a finger at Milo, Helga barked out,

"Alright, shrimp, listen up and listen well, cuz I'm only gonna say this once. Never—I repeat— **never** get in my way like that!" shouted the blonde, her mighty voice echoing off the walls of the halls like a shout in the Grand Canyon.

" **Ever** …Got it?"

Hey, if Helga G. Pataki was going to make an impression on the newcomer of her class, she might as well make a strong one.

Arnold and Gerald, however, took great offense to Helga's words, but especially Arnold. Oh yeah, he could accept the daily bluster and rage _he_ received from the girl himself. This time, however, all that bluster and rage was targeting Milo, and the last outcome Arnold preferred was his younger sibling getting terrified on his first day in the fourth grade.

Now standing up to Helga was _no_ simple task—that much was certain—of course, standing up to difficult tasks was just another one of Arnold's specialties.

"Helga, Milo didn't mean to walk into you like that. It just was an accident," P.S. 118's peacemaker, palms up and feet taking a step forward, calmly explained to the irascible blonde in front of him, but to no avail.

"Oh, spare me, Arnoldo!" acidly scoffed the Pataki girl with an eye roll, "Heck, I oughta be slugging _both_ of you right now! You're the one who's looking after the kid for cripes' sake!"

"Football Head," to Milo's credit, did not back down. In fact, his hands now akimbo to his waist, he stood boldly but righteously, a wall of unshakeable caring resolve against a raging tempest.

' _Stubborn geekbait as usual, I see... Oh my beloved...If only you knew how much doing this pains me...'_

Indeed, branding Milo with the same brutality as with Arnold practically tore up the girl's insides... very, very much. Unfortunately, the risks of being nice to the little guy imposed the same consequences as did showing affection towards the apple of her eye (or anyone for that matter, but especially her charming little apple).

"Helga...Listen. What I'm just trying to say is—"

"Sorry."

"Huh?" the two blondes and Gerald, eyes wide, uttered confusingly and in unison, all three rather taken back by the words just spoken by this boy. Even the audience went dead silent at the boy's word.

To the surprise of the three older youths, there was no trace of emotion to the kid's countenance.

Milo wasn't even _glaring_ at Helga. Even _Arnold_ usually was more expressive than this boy.

' _Man, the least this kid could is_ _ **look**_ _sad,'_ mused the Pataki girl in perplexity.

The seven-year old simply shrugged his shoulders before saying "sorry" once more.

"Nobody actually got hurt, but I'm still apologizing. It's only right...right?"

Taken rather back by the boy's frank tone, Helga, shaking her head vigorously, effectively snapped herself out of her shock before, not wishing to lose face, fashioning a smug smirk at Arnold and Gerald and positioning her hands akimbo to _her_ _own_ hips.

"See, boys? Day's barely over and he knows the drill already. I suggest following his example, Arnoldo."

"Whatever you say, Helga." This time, _Arnold_ was the one to do an eye roll. Immediately after his reply had been uttered, Arnold felt a finger jab his chest sharply.

"Exactly, bucko, whatever _I_ say. Now move it already!"

Offering a half-lidded look but still stepping off to the side with Gerald and Milo, Arnold only crossed his arms, his face the epitome of calm.

Deep down, on the other hand, told a different story. His nerves still steamed a bit inside at Helga Pataki's treatment of the younger child.

' _Milo deserves better than that and Helga knows it. She could at least lighten up on him.'_

"You should try Cherry Monkey Bunch Cake," a familiar voice interrupted, cutting off Arnold's contemplation.

Arnold, Gerald, and Helga, the last of whom froze in mid-step, once again turned to the younger boy in absolute perplexity.

"Cherry Monkey Bunch Cake," the brown-toned boy repeated casually, a hand in his pocket and his sketchbook in the other,"...you should try it. I hear it's really good at lifting people's spirits up."

'… _Uh?'_ became the sole occupant of both Arnold's and Gerald's thoughts at the moment.

Helga, _'Okay...that was random.'_

Yet young Milo continued his words regardless of his peers' reactions. "My Mom even told me that if you share it with someone you care about, all the secrets in your life, even the deepest, darkest ones, come flying right off your chest."

 _Deepest, darkest secrets_...like one girl's passion for a certain flaxen-haired angel...

Everyone else, aside from Arnold and Helga, only wondered if this boy had completely lost his mind.

A baffled Rhonda, _'_ _What_ _is he_ _ **talking about**_ _?'_

A stunned Stinky, _'I reckon Milo dun lost it.'_

An exasperated Gerald, _'All right, that's it. This kid has_ _got_ _to lay off the anime.'_ (1)

Arnold wondered what his little brother was up to (if he was up to anything at all). Of course, being the dense fellow that he was, the optimist couldn't quite fathom what Milo could be up to that'd involve Helga Pataki of all people.

' _I just hope he doesn't try to get back at her or anything. He's already on a bad start with her as it is.'_

And Helga?

She wondered if her heart might explode!

' _He—but how much...Oh criminy, who_ _ **is**_ _this kid?'_

Who in the world could already pick up so much about a person from just one chance meeting? Well yeah, Helga was worrying herself over somebody two years younger than her and less than half her height...

But what he just said...oh man, there's no way those words were said out of a whim!

Ironically enough, this same boy snapped the blonde girl out of her shocked state by pulling out something from his tiny azure backpack and modestly voicing,

"You dropped this on the bus earlier by the way."

Her science book...There it was, perched in Milo's pudgy fingers like a chocolate bar calling Helga's name.

Insecurity struck the blonde female in waves as memories of near humiliation and panic-struck apprehension threatened to drown her confidence.

She did not need a repeat of that "lost diary" episode.

Quickly reverting back to full-on rage before anyone could pick up on her strange change in demeanor, Helga snatched the book out of the boy's hand, snapping,

"Gimme that! Next time, keep that kid on a leash, Football Head, SHEESH!"

Arnold gave a half-lidded glare to the Pataki girl, who didn't even flinch a quarter of an inch. Gerald, on the other hand, gritted his teeth in a nearly vain effort to keep a low-sounding grumble from turning into a catty reply as his best friend's personal tormentor roughly pushed her way past the three boys.

Sure enough, Milo neither glared nor grumbled but rather raised an eyebrow at the blonde girl's display of aggression.

"Off day for her, you think?" he asked his brother and Gerald quietly yet curiously.

Gerald merely shook his head, deciding not to comment on the boy's apparent innocence. "Trust me...that girl's _always_ on an off day."

* * *

Later at the end of the school day, on the far side of the school, away from wandering eyes...

The same frantic blonde paced endlessly, berating herself all the while, her defensive façade long gone.

"AHH! What is wrong with me? It's bad enough I gave the kid one of my patented death glares. Oh no, though, Helga G. Pataki! You didn't want to stop there, did you? You just had to treat the kid like crud!"

With those words spoken, she drew out her locket once more, half-expecting the Arnold in the picture to be frowning at her instead of beaming that usual laid-back smile.

Even though he didn't, the rotten feeling still persisted.

"Oh Arnold...Arnold! How could I have allowed my repression of my innermost feelings for you to warp my better judgment towards your dear sibling? How could I be so callous? How could I be so judgmental towards his good will and intentions? Forgive me not, my muse. Do not waste your mercy upon this wretched wench, this wench that dares to shatter not only your good, Samaritan beliefs, but **as well as the oath she has so promptly desecrate** —"

**SLAP!**

That sound came from the contact of Helga's own hand colliding with the side of her cheek... **hard**. Regardless, the action snapped the girl out of her soliloquy-style rant rather well.

"Whoa, whoa, get yourself together, Helga, old girl!" She drew a deep breath, willing her being to regain self-control—a successful effort, even though her internal tension still persisted.

"Alright, look, you said you'd only ease up the teasing on the kid. You never anything about being this kid's angel and showering affection on him like a doting mother would to her pride and joy."

Helga's eyelids suddenly flew open at the last couple of words.

' _Although that's not a bad idea for a poem...'_ Helga, slightly impressed with herself, mused with a small grin.

Keeping up with that tiny bout of inspiration, Helga pulled out of one of her pockets a little blue notebook (same color as Arnold's shirt and hat of course) with a yellow pencil contained in the notebook's spiral spine. Flipping to an empty, white page, Helga took the pencil out of the spine and wrote down a few words to remember those last couple of words.

Hey, being a poet meant being prepared for unexpected ideas.

After finishing her jotting and placing the notebook and pencil back where they were previously, the tomboy stroked her chin and continued her pacing more slowly as she continued where she left off with her thoughts concerning Milo.

' _Now then... there's got to be a way I can keep an eye on the squirt without blowing my cover. He's definitely the type who knows a lot more then he lets on, maybe even more than Football Head himself. Especially if he looked inside that book and can see past my charade now...'_

And if that cake comment was any indication, well...Helga would just need to keep a close eye on that Mahana boy.

"The last thing I need is making an enemy out of that shrimp _._ "

Easier said than done, though...

Coming up with the plan would be simple. The _execution_ of said plan would be the difficult part.

"Just need a little ingenuity, Helga, old girl. And maybe some elbow grease while you're at it..."

At least if some stealth would be needed...

All of sudden, a distant sound abruptly snapped the blonde out of her contemplation, prompting her, to look around in confusion at her current environment and seek out the source of the indistinct noise.

A voice...accented too...

' _Wait a sec, don't I recognize that accent?'_

Then, after peeking out from behind the building, she saw him.

A tall Asian man with a thin moustache and wavy black hair was at the other end of the sidewalk. Dressed in a dark blue jacket, sky blue button up shirt, white shoes, and long khaki pants, he seemed a bit nervous, twiddling his thick thumbs as he kept these subtle glances towards the school entrance from which all the children scampered out to freedom. From the Pataki girl's vantage point, the man seemed to be mumbling something to no one in particular.

If Helga didn't know any better, she'd sworn he was waiting for somebody.

She was right on the money because Milo, Arnold, and Gerald stepped out of the school, strolled right across the street and came to a stop beside the lanky fellow. The man, whose frown had transformed into a smile the moment he saw the boys and had now kneeled down to be at eye level with the tiniest of the trio, and Milo performed a most peculiar greeting.

Both of them each brought their hands together in a fashion that could've easily have made cylinders. Then their fingers began moving vertically in rhythmic patterns .From an observer's perspective, the man and the boy would've looked like they were playing pretend mini-trumpets in their hands.

All of a sudden, the two males separated their hands and held them far out to the sides, almost if they were about to hug each other.

Actually, what they did instead was quickly clasp their hands together and then that corny hand wave Helga had seen on some of those tacky dance shows Olga forced her to watch sometimes.

What did they call those gestures? Jazz hands..?

Honestly, throughout her short life, Helga had seen people do some weird actions (even if she _is_ one to talk), but those two seemed to just take the cake.

She could only shake her head in cynical disbelief as Arnold and Gerald, unlike their unseen observer, both chuckled at the man and Milo's antics.

' _Man, is everybody in that boardinghouse a grade-A nutcase?'_

* * *

Helga stepped inside through the front door, closing it shut with a noisy bang.

"I'm home!" she called out loudly, muttering shortly after, "Not that _that_ amounts to a hill of beans..."

"Pipe down, Olga! I'm watching the Wheel!" shouted a boorish and baritone voice from the living room. "Ah mother humper, that ain't no prize, ya maroon. That's a god damn rip-off!"

Rolling her eyes, the pigtailed girl stomped upstairs to her room, her practical sanctuary, the door to where she was about to enter...at least until—

"Oh Helga!"

That chirpy (not to mention cringe worthy) voice could only belong to one person...and unfortunately that very person was skipping right down the hallway to her "baby sister" right this moment.

The thought of _'When the heck did_ _ **she**_ _get here?'_ couldn't help running through the dumbstruck mind of the younger Pataki girl as the award-winning Olga enveloped her in a nearly bone-crushing hug.

Nobody ever told her Miss Perfect would be here today!

' _Then again, surprise, surprise...I could write a book on the things Bob and Miriam never tell me,'_ Helga sarcastically had commented in her mind right before two shockingly strong arms constricted her.

"There you are, silly!" Releasing her grip on the struggling and increasingly oxygen deprived nine-year old, Olga held Helga at arm's length with a dazzling smile. "Oh, I've been looking all over for you, silly! I need somebody to help Mommy and I make dinner."

Helga, who had been a bit busy rubbing her arms in order to get the feeling back into them after managing to brush her overly mushy sister off her, raised an eyebrow at her in expectant annoyance.

' _Oh brother...'_

'Oh brother,' no kidding...Helga G. Pataki had better things to do than run errands like a miniature housewife.

"Gee, really, sis? Well gosh, Olga, that's just swell!" Helga cheerfully faked with a smile and a swung fist. "Oh, but you know what? I've got, uh, a school project I need to get a head start on."

With those words said, the younger girl shrugged her shoulders in feigned disappointment and proceeded once more to walk into her room.

"Ah well, there's always next time, right?"

A dainty but shockingly firm finger planted itself upon Helga's cranium, grabbing the blonde's attention and halting her progress.

"Not so fast, young lady, I've made this dinner special just for you, and I, for one, do not intend to let my younger sibling miss out on this wonderful day!"

Was Helga hearing things...or did Olga sound more chipper than usual— if such a condition could even be _possible_?

"And why," Helga inquired cautiously and slowly as her one eyebrow raised up in suspicion," dare I ask, is this day so 'wonderful'?"

This young tomboy, much to her chagrin, only received for an answer a bubbly giggle from Olga, a light tap on the nose (at which point Helga had tried to swat away her elder sibling's hand), and the following answer:

"You'll see, baby sister."

Before Helga could even ask about the enigmatic significance of those words, Olga, in her typical sunshine girl fashion, merrily skipped away, humming a cheery tune. The older girl probably even thought she had just made her sibling very cheerful about the surprise.

Her baby sister felt **anything** but cheerful. Actually, she merely sighed forlornly as her eyes rolled in tired irritation. Knowing that sister of hers, Helga had a strong feeling she wasn't going to like what that woman had in store for her.

' _Why do I feel like she should've just set me up for my own execution instead?'_

* * *

"Oh hi, Helga, honey, back from school already?"

At hearing _those_ words upon entering the kitchen, the Pataki girl could only give the woman in purple, seated in a chair right in front of her younger daughter, the usual half-lidded glare.

"I've been back since _two hours ago_ , Miriam," replied Helga drolly.

"Oh, good!" exclaimed Miriam airily.

' _Why do I_ _ **even**_ _bother?'_ Helga sighed mentally with another eye roll.

A grinning Bob pointed a thick finger at the empty seat that had somehow ended up right next to Helga. "Ah, there she is! About time, girl! Now sit that keister of yours down. Your sister's got something **big** planned."

Hold on, Miriam actually looked... somber...and were she and Bob... _smiling_? Helga wouldn't admit this but...she kind of felt creeped out right now. Those grins on her parents' faces looked _way_ too happy to be either comforting _or_ normal.

' _Something tells me I should just walk away right now. In fact...'_

Too late for that decision...Before Helga could even blink, something knocked her right off her feet, only to have her land butt-first on it instead of the floor. Olga had just slipped a chair right under her sister, and was now scooting the chair up to the table.

All of this happened in only two seconds.

"Oh wait," the elder sibling exclaimed, clapping her hands daintily, "this occasion calls for something special. Wait right here, everyone!"

Everyone watched Olga as she pranced her way out of the kitchen like an overly perky fairy princess.

The youngest of the Patakis, slouched back in her chair and arms crossed, rolled her eyes once more at the absurdity of the people surrounding her.

' _Special? Olga, everything you_ _ **do**_ _is special. Heck, Miriam and Bob even consider the fact that you_ _ **breathe**_ _special! How much more_ _ **special**_ _could you possibly_ _ **get**_ _anyway?'_

Upon realizing the frequency of a particular 's' word in her mind, Helga quickly but vigorously shook her head to rid herself of the slightly stunned expression that came about at the end of her train of thought.

' _I'd...better cut off that thought now. I'm starting to sound like Simmons.'_

Still, what the heck was _with_ this family all of a sudden? Unless there was some benefit guaranteed for them, these guys, at least Bob and Miriam (but especially Bob), never usually spent some much affection on their younger member unless...

An assumed epiphany made Helga scrunch her eyebrow in unspoken but defiant outrage.

' _Hmph, well I know one thing. Helga G. Pataki is_ _ **not**_ _going to be another pawn in the beeper king's self-glorification or_ _ **Ol**_ _ga's mission to shower the planet with rainbows and unicorns, that's for sure.'_

"Hey, hey, hey!" snapped the voice of Big Bob Pataki, the voice of whom snapped his daughter out of her sarcastic reverie and brought her scathing attention in his direction.

"Don't' go throwing that look around, little lady! Your sister's got something worthwhile planned for you, so I better start seeing some gratitude over there, capiche?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your arteries in a knot."

' _Not that they already are...'_ the pigtailed rebel added internally to herself with a subtle smirk.

Before long, though, Olga returned to the kitchen, except this time she had a huge, silver stereo cradled in her arms. On top of the sound system was something that seemed to be a CD case.

Helga could not believe her widened eyes.

' _You've_ _ **got**_ _to be kidding me.'_

Stereo seated neatly on the table, Olga, with her delicate fingers, removed the CD from its case, pressed a button on the stereo, and inserted the disc into the now open slot of the sound system.

Much to Helga's disbelief (and maybe even utter embarrassment), the cacophony of an orchestra filled the living room, the trumpets sounding off the climax with a deafening roar before let their voices descend into silence. From that point on, soft classical music dominated the room's atmosphere.

"Now then, I, Olga G. Pataki, have very exciting news! Do you all recall the 'Big Sis, Little Sis' program from last month?"

' _How could I forget?'_ Helga groaned inwardly, facepalming as she scowled very darkly at the memory.

That problematic program had been a double curse in disguise! Oh yeah, it took Olga out of Helga's hair (or so the younger sibling had assumed at the time) but then it paired her up with _Li_ -la, of all people!

Hang on! If that program and Helga were related, though, then—

' _Oh no...,'_ thought a shocked Helga in desperation, '... _For the love of Sigmund Freud, please no...'_

Despite of her ever escalating terror, Helga still managed to ask her sister in a deceptively calm voice, "So...uh, you signed me up for it then, eh, Olga?"

On second thought, execution sounded better and better. A little brother or sister...? That idea meant all sorts of complications for the young blonde. First of all, dragging around some little squirt all day would _not_ do wonders for Helga G. Pataki's reputation. Unless the kid was part wolverine, the iron-fisted queen of P.S. 118 was in for a planet-sized headache!

The last thing Helga needed was a mini-Lila following her around.

Second—and most vital of all—who knew how much of a nosy parker the kid that Helga would get stuck with was...especially if the brat came too close to a particular secret...one involving a certain closet and a certain football-head...

' _What do I look like anyway—a piggyback ride? I've already got one little squirt to worry about. Helga Pataki_ _ **doesn't**_ _need another brat on her back!'_

"Actually, as wonderful as that idea sounds, Helga...," replied Olga, her usually perky voice soon adopting a saddened tone. "I'm afraid not. That program only accepts people 18 or older when choosing older siblings."

Oh, in that case, scratch the execution part...

' _Ha! Thought she had me there, didn't she?_ _ **So**_ _close, sis, but, hey, nice try anyway...'_

Maintaining the same false air of sincerity, Helga gave her sister a convincing look of sympathy.

"Oh gee, that's too bad, sis! Oh well, guess I'll just have to stick with being a baby sister, huh?"

"But that's just fine!" Uh oh, Olga was back to smiling again!

"Uh...It ...is?" And Helga was back to being terrified again, very taken aback at the sudden comeback of Olga's joviality.

' _Oh boy...'_

"Yep... because there's a program for people _under_ age 18! It's called the Sunny Smiles Siblings program and it's open to both boys _and_ girls!"

The current moment that followed that "reassurance", at least in Helga's perspective, would pretty much parallel the part where some medieval guy is already set in the guillotine, the blade all raised and ready to decapitate.

"And...why?" The blonde dynamo immediately wished she hadn't asked.

"Well, I've done some serious thinking lately..." Olga began thoughtfully as she tapped her fingers together.

The blade finally began its descension...

"...and decided it's time you gain experience in what life's like when you have someone to share it with!"

Still the blade fell.

' _So, in other words, I'm...?'_ Helga shakily concluded with a gulp.

The blade sliced through the poor slob's throat—or rather Big Bob's words cut through Helga's sense of security.

"That's right, Olga! Your sister's just signed ya up to be a-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I really dramatized Olga, didn't I? XD
> 
> (1) That reference was supposed to be a reference to to the anime Bobobo-Bo-Bobobo! (Purple Monkey Horseshoe!-I'm serious. That phrase is an actual line from the show!) Yeah, I have some serious problems with my obssession over that show! XP
> 
> Don't forget to review!


	4. Guesses and Gameplans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All canon characters in this story belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. The two songs used in here belong to their respective owners. I only own Bonnie and Milo.

"Baby, I'm not too sure about this."

"Mr. Simmons said that the students participating don't _have_ to sign up... only if they want to."

" _Do_ you want to?"

"I think it sounds like it might be fun, to be honest!"

"Yeah...if you want to experience life as a human ox..."

" _Mom_..."

"Milo, it's enough that I let Wartz place you in the fourth grade. At least there are people there you're familiar with. For all we know, the person you get stuck with might be some... _jackass_ who thinks the whole world revolves around him."

Arnold honestly couldn't help flinching at Bonnie's words. No matter how used he's become to her cursing, the football-headed young man still had to cringe a bit at the woman's sharp tongue.

Right now, the current conversation that took place in the boardinghouse kitchen consisted of..."persuasive argument" between Bonnie, Milo's mother, and Milo himself. Mr. Hyunh, the boy's "guardian," and Arnold were simply bystanders for the moment. The dark-haired young woman had been pacing around the kitchen while the guys were seated at the dinner table.

To say the least, the boardinghouse's resident Polynesian felt livid.

Hoping to assuage the mother's anxieties, Arnold boldly stood up from his seat and added his own two cents.

"Listen, Ms. Mahana, if the older sibling that Milo receives _does_ turn out awful, you could just go back to Sunny Smiles to call the offer off. It's not like you had to pay for it in the first place."

"Arnold speaks the truth," Mr. Hyunh piped up with a supportive smile. "Also, the program requires that the parents of either participant be present. You could see Milo's new sibling firsthand and decide if your son is in good hands."

Bonnie's reply was a dry, deadpan stare. Her tone of voice was no different.

"Yiang, I really wish I could just go along with what you and Arnold are saying. Only one problem: this is _not_ a babysitter we're dealing with here. What I want to know, you guys, is whether there's any real point to Milo doing this. He already has a brother in Arnold and, hey, even Gerald. What difference is another older sibling going to make for him?"

That question did a bang up job of leaving all the males at the table speechless. What difference _would_ another role model for Milo make?

"I guess you're right," Milo eventually admitted, putting his head in his hands pensively. "Having an extra big brother or a new big sister does sound a bit redundant."

To the relief of all the two boys and Hyunh, Bonnie didn't smirk triumphantly to show she was pleased that her reasoning finally made its mark. She gave a relieved smile instead, that no argument were being brought up. She truly hated having fights with her family.

However, there also seemed to be a trace of sadness that popped up in her eyes the moment she saw her son's forlorn expression.

' _Oh, he looked so interested in this program. A part of me deep down really does want to see how things would turn out, but...I just don't want my baby...'_

...To get hurt?

Well, he wasn't getting any younger and the sooner he was used to pain and disappointments, the sooner he'd be ready for the real world, right?

' _Or maybe I'm just afraid of the changes that could happen if Milo_ _ **is**_ _happy with his pretend sibling...there's no telling_ _ **what**_ _could happen.'_

All of a sudden though, the young single mother, finally registering Milo's last statement and to the confusion of her family members, twisted her face in genuine confusion and offered her only son a perplexed stare.

"Wait, back up a sec— Milo, where did you learn the word _"redundant"?_

All Milo offered back was an indifferent shrug.

"The dictionary...where else...? ...Still, I wouldn't have minded having some new company—kind of like new spices in Grandma's cooking. A little variety never hurt anybody, right?" he joked with a half-grin.

For the first time since the conversation began, the tense atmosphere seemed to experience a lift considerably thanks to the boy's playful words.

Arnold returned his little brother's expression in agreement (the kid _had_ made a rather interesting, if not factually valid, point). Mr. Hyunh chuckled fatherly before affectionately tousling Milo's unkempt black hair. Even Bonnie seemed to ease up a bit, a smile peeking out on her face despite of her rolling eyes.

' _Maybe Arnold and Yiang are right. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Besides, my son's not exactly like all the other kiddos.'_

Granted being a single parent guaranteed ample space to worry about your only child, but limits were still limits.

Bonnie, "How about a deal then...? If you _really_ want to do this, Milo, just say so. We can go to the Sunny Smiles place right now if you want. Just know that if you _do_ along with this, you're going to have to stick with whoever you get stuck with... **but** if worse _does_ come to worse, then we'll be there to get you out. Okay?"

A nodding Arnold, "There _are_ other ways for you to make friends anyway. I'm not saying Sunny Smiles is bad, just probably one of a dozen ways you could take."

"But Milo," all eyes shifted to Hyunh, who needed a few seconds at first to compose himself as to adjust to all the attention being directed to him at once.

Clearing his throat, the Vietnamese fellow continued a bit more confidently.

"It is your choice alone. We only wish to know you will be alright."

And so finally there came the decisive factor: Milo's _own_ decision.

Even without leaning in, Arnold, Bonnie, and Mr. Hyunh still waited with bated breath the moment the child opened his lips.

"Hmm...Then in that case...I say..."

* * *

" **Oh for the love of—how the heck do you mess up something like this, Olga?"** thundered a rather indignant Big Bob as he and his family stepped back through their front door.

Meanwhile, Helga, who had been bringing up the rear, rolled her eyes at the antics of the man that was technically supposed to be her dad.

"Tsk, trust me, Bob," scoffed the pigtailed blonde with a trace of amusement, "It was easier than I thought."

The Patakis' time at the SSS, to say the least, had gotten unbearably ugly...and that was putting it _lightly_.

Long story short, every tyke that so much as peeked at Helga, who of which had been lingering around the waiting area as her parents and Olga completed the rest of the paperwork, ran for the hills (or at least back to their mommies and daddies) like the Banshee was at their heels! Not that they didn't have a good reason to escape in such a fright...because they did.

Actually, Helga couldn't deny a sense of pride at the fear she inspired in the hearts of those kids.

' _Good to know I've still got the edge'_ was the thought that ran through the satisfied girl's mind.

"Now Daddy," the voice of Olga piped up meekly, jarring the younger blonde out of her thoughts. The young woman had a dainty hand on her father's hefty shoulder in an attempt to catch his attention. "I'm sure all the children just overreacted to Helga. You know how kids are."

Okay...ignoring _that_ slightly backhanded comment, Helga turned towards the stairs to stomp all the way to her room (or at least anywhere to temporarily escape from her dysfunctional "family").

Bob would not have it. "Hold it there, little missy! Report that little keister to the trophy room **pronto**!"

Oh no, Helga would not concede to her father's wishes—not _this_ time!

' _I think it's about time SOMEBODY finally laid down the FACTS on Olga's latest scheme.'_

In fact, she instead pivoted her body and her head so her folks could see her deadpan expression in full view and, raising a finger and one hand akimbo, answered in a scathingly and mockingly cool tone,

"Bob...let's get one thing straight," she explained slowly at first, "...little kids and I—do—not— mix. _Very_ simple logic...Now if anybody needs me ( _which we all know is_ _ **definitely**_ _not gonna happen_ ) I'll be upstairs tending to my eardrums."

Thus, with these words spoken, Helga continued her ascent up the stairs, digging a finger in one of her ears as she did.

She hadn't been kidding about her eardrums. Some of the kids she scared off had wailed to the high heavens...and even broke a few windows without even touching them!

' _Criminy, were those brats born with megaphones lodged down their gullets?'_

* * *

' _Oh Helga... Why do you have to act so...so difficult sometimes?'_

Even in retrospect, Olga honestly believed the program would have done her baby sister some good. Aside from Phoebe, Helga didn't seem to have anyone to look after and support beyond herself.

Right now, Big Bob, still visibly irked by his younger child's failure and continued incompliance, was sitting in the living room once again, the television set to a blaring volume. Apparently, the man had hopes that the searing noise would stomp out any memories of today.

No such luck so far...

Miriam, meanwhile, more or less, seemed to have the same goal in mind, only her way involved smoothies of questionable content. In fact, the conked out woman was currently laid out on the kitchen floor, her snores conjuring up a storm.

Amazingly enough, Olga shook her head at only her sister's antics, not at the ludicrous scenes permeating the rest of her immediate family.

' _I do wish there was a way to fix this.'_

As if answering to Olga's thoughts, the hallway phone right next to her rung vibrantly, stopping the moment the young lady took the phone from its stand and answered in a convincingly perky voice.

"Hello, award-winning Olga G. Pataki speaking! How may I be of assistance?"

A few moments of silence overtook the hallway as the vibrant flaxen listened intently to the disembodied voice of the caller.

"No, I'm so sorry, ma'am," Olga finally responded with a glum frown, "I believe you're referring to my baby sister."

Once again, no sound save for the television and Miriam's snoring existed in the hallway...at until Olga's face lighted up like a neon light all of a sudden!

"Oh wait! Did you just say Sunny Smiles? Yes, my family and I were just there a while ago! Although I'm afraid we experienced some difficulties in finding a sibling for my baby sister."

The blonde's face soon adopted a rather inquisitive and curious expression of interest as the voice continued. She held the phone closer to her ear in response.

"Yes, I'm listening."

* * *

( **"Sunset Ceremony"** by David and Steve Gordon)

If what Bob and Miriam were doing were ludicrous, however, then their wayward second-born daughter's activities were on a whole higher level of weird!

Sealed deep within the confines of her own closet's attic, Helga, bowing before a soda-pop bottle replica of her beloved, had on makeshift robes constructed from old, colorful Inuit blankets Olga brought once from a trip to Alaska. The patterns truly lent themselves to the purpose of this ritual. In addition, upon the impassioned worshipper's head sat a feathered headdress unsurprisingly in the shape of Arnold's unique cranium.

"Oh my beloved," began Helga fervently, "how I must _scoff_ at times at the absurdity of the fools with whom I am forced to coexist! Believing they could influence _fate_ to their very whim—by pairing me with a child of unfathomable ignorance, no less!"

The pious girl merely shook her head in disdain before proceeding with her confession.

"No, Arnold, such is not what fate itself intends. Nay, what I see instead is the mission fate has obligated to me. And I will, so as long as I still draw breath, see to that said mission is fulfilled as selflessly and kindly as you wish, my love!"

With no more to be said in the silence of her holy altar, the young woman, still enveloped in her holistic passion, bowed once more in reverence before the ersatz replication of her muse.

And then a hand rose to reach a switch...

...the lights went off...

And back on to reveal Helga G. Pataki once more, this time back in her normal clothes, the ceremonial dressing and headdress already cast aside, ahem, ceremoniously.

**(Music ends with a scratching sound)**

"Okay, now that that's over...time to get down to business!" Helga clapped her hands briskly before pacing around the attic floor.

She hummed a bit in deep thought.

"Hmm...Alright, so it was right before school let out yesterday when I finally got my science book from Squirt. Question is: did he see anything at all in that book? And if yes, then how much of the beans did he spill out?"

She could probably blackmail him ( _Nah...Too little evidence...)._ What about threats? Would those work? ( _A good safety measure—yes...an actual plan—not so much...)_

Perhaps taking him off to the side for a little "chat" in her "office" would do the trick. _(Nah, with Arnold and Tall-Hair Boy as his official bodyguards, I might as well be trying to have a nice little chat with the President)._

There just _had_ to be a way... but _what_?

' _Think, Helga, think! There's_ _ **gotta**_ _be some way to get that kid away from those yahoos! 'Too bad_ _ **he**_ _didn't sign up for that cockamamie program. Otherwise, I'd actually have a reason to_ _ **thank**_ _Olga for once.'_

 _Thank_ Olga...? Okay, seriously, Helga just had to stop for a moment and chuckle a bit at the thought of _that_.

Anyway, there was also the question of how to go about the interrogation...which Helga never got the chance to ponder on...

"Oh baby sister! Could you come out here for a moment, please?"

Of all the—lashing out in anger would probably complicate matters so Helga replied in the most sincerely sweet sounding voice she could muster up.

"Coming, Big Sis! "

Welp...time to see what the "Sister of the Year" wanted her for... _again_.

"And it better be good, Poppins!" Helga muttered grumpily under her breath.

So without further ado, Helga stomped her way back to the floor entrance of the attic, lifted the door, raised down the ladder that lay next to said entrance, and proceeded to climb down...

But not until after taking in one last glimpse of the replicated visage of her love, already cloaked by the shadows...

"Until the dark of night, my love..."

* * *

"Oh Helga, there you are! O, I have such very exciting news!"

Helga resisted the urge to roll her eyes and simply gave her ridiculously optimistic sister the same old, same old scowl.

' _Oh, what now? A chance for me to donate my organs for unfortunate orphans in another unfortunate country that unfortunate little me has never heard of in her short years of unfortunate existen—'_

Wait a sec, did Olga seem...serious? Wait, yes, indeed the countenance Olga had none of the usual perk but instead a solemn frown. Helga's sarcastic thinking ceased right in its tracks at the sight as Olga knelt down to be one eye level with her.

"Now, baby sister, before you say anything let me just tell you that the challenge before you is not a simple one. I should know after all."

' _Sheesh, she's still going on about_ _ **that**_ _?'_ the younger blonde griped internally.

Oh yeah right, like Helga had been actually _begging_ to be in the program from the start!

"Hey, I'm signed up, anyway, aren't I?" _(Not that anyone bothered to ask me in the first place—Geez!)_

Besides, as far those chumps at the 'Sunny Smiles' joint were concerned, the irascible blonde made a lousy older sibling anyway, so sorry to disappoint your astronomically high expectations, Bob.

Unfortunately, Olga, her eyes closed, hand clasped as if in prayer, and back now facing Helga, just kept going.

"—therefore I strongly believe that you, as my baby sister and a fellow Pataki, has more than what it takes to be an outstanding, loving, caring, noble, considerate, nurturing—"

Okay, enough with the list already!

"While we're still alive, Olga! _What_ are you trying to _say_?" the nine-year old shouted, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation!

Wrong choice of words...

Without warning, Olga released a high-pitched squeal that forced her poor baby sister to cover her own ears in agony. And she thought those brats back at the triple-S were loud!

To make matters even worse, Helga, for the second time that day, suddenly found herself in another vice grip that felt even stronger than the last one.

"It worked! Oh Helga, it actually worked!"

Air...Air! This poor child needed air!

Thankfully, the psychotic woman finally loosened her grip on Helga after a few seconds, allowing the pigtailed girl to regain precious oxygen. However, she still held the child at arm's length, that irritatingly sunshine smile never leaving her face.

"WHAT are you talking about?" an irate Helga asked demandingly after her respiratory recovery.

"Why, the Sunny Smiles Siblings, of course, silly! Oh this is so wonderful!"

...

Uh...did she, by any chance, drink something in one of Miriam's smoothies? On second thought, scratch that thought. If that _had_ been the case, not only would she have had besmirched her "perfect record", she also wouldn't have been looking more freakishly perky than usual.

Even so though... _'Where the heck_ _ **was**_ _this chick in the last 3 hours?'_

Verbally, Helga said nothing for few seconds, only raising her monobrow questioningly.

"Okay, sister, spill the beans!" Someone around here needed answers and needed them now! Pulling away from Olga's grip, Helga crossed her arms and fixed an intent glare at her older sibling.

"Did some kid get paired up with me or did the SSS finally decide to label Helga G. Pataki as a contamination hazard to the preschooler population?"

Olga, much to the fourth grader's ever increasing chagrin, merely giggled before continuing on.

"Oh Helga, you big silly, of course they found someone for you! And you'll never guess who signed up to be your little sibling either. It's—"

* * *

"Helga Pataki!"

Milo seriously had to do a double take on the scene before him.

Arnold, usually the epitome of chill and reason, had just leapt from his spot on the bed—the spot right next to Milo to be exact— to the top of his own shelf, which, to Milo's surprise, did not respond to the added weight of the nine-year old in the slightest!

' _Man, now that's one sturdy shelf!'_

Anyway, back to the matter at hand...

The football-headed wonder's face practically screamed: _'How the freak did_ _ **that**_ _happen!'_ (Okay, granted, maybe Arnold wouldn't have said those words per say...but, in Milo's defense, they seemed like the most appropriate description for the older boy's wide-eyed look.)

All in all, this was a pretty out-of-character moment for Arnold.

So Milo had a very valid reason to stare, dumbfounded at his older sib as if he'd grown a third eye. He then shook his head before fixing Arnold with a face of disapproving disbelief. " _Dude_...really?"

' _Huh...Oh...right...,'_ thought the initially confused but suddenly cognizant football-headed wonder with reddened cheeks as he lowered himself down from the shelf and back on his bed.

"Uh, sorry...," Arnold rubbed the back of his head sheepishly before turning his view back to Milo. "It's just...wow..."

The Hispanic/Polynesian mixed child looked away and nodded in thoughtful agreement.

"Yeah, I'll admit, Mom and I were pretty shocked, too."

Believable or not, Helga had been the only participant available. The lady at the counter, for some ridiculous reason and much to the bewilderment of Milo and Bonnie, had seemed a bit _too_ excited at the prospect of someone finally choosing the blonde fireball.

"Actually, Arnold..."

Oh boy...there was no mistaking _that_ smirk!

"I could make this work to my advantage." The younger boy's expression switched from a smirk to a reflective smile "There _are_ some issues I need to set straight with Helga after all."

Uh oh, Arnold had a bad feeling about this! Granted, our optimist here always had in the back of his mind consideration of the idea of Helga being a nice person deep beneath her usual bluster. She had even proved that consideration correct at times, rare as those times had been.

At the same time, though, he couldn't help but feel a sort of uneasiness at Milo's words about confronting the irascible dynamo. Believe it or not, Arnold had seen the torture Helga put the younger kids through...and it was nowhere near prettier than the heck she put her peers through.

' _I think I'm starting to get where Ms. Mahana was coming from.'_

Plus, just like Mr. Hyunh, Arnold had been there for Milo ever since the little guy's birth. As such, he truly felt scared for the scamp...nothing like a babysitter who'd simply get trouble with the parent (even if Bonnie _could_ be a frightening force whenever she felt her son was in trouble)...but rather in the same way as an actual, devoted brother would.

The Golden Wonder placed a finger to his chin as he mulled over the situation a bit more in his head.

' _Well...Milo_ _ **might**_ _be able to get her to open up. Even if he can't, at least I can convince Helga to go easy on him. She can be mean, but I know she can't be_ _ **that**_ _mean. Besides, all I want is for Milo and Helga to have a chance to patch things up after what happened today. They could be_ _ **really**_ _good friends if they tried!'_

"Just try to be yourself," Arnold advised, turning to face the brown-toned tyke, the attentive green eyes of whom had been watching him ponder all the while.

"And if the two of you _do_ end up having problems, then just talk it out with her." With a supportive and honest smile, Arnold put a hand on Milo's shoulder before continuing.

After all, Helga could be a very logical person...just as long as she wasn't raving of course.

The gesture did not go unappreciated...as evidenced by Milo's grin. "Being myself—no problem...! Really think she'll listen, though?" The grin drooped a bit when during this question.

Regardless, Arnold gave Milo the same beam. "Trust me. I've tried before. It's hard at first, but when you really get down to it Helga's not all that bad. Besides, it _would_ be nice if the two of you _did_ manage to iron things out. Just make sure to give Helga some space while you're around her, okay, Milo?"

The sepia-toned tyke gave a lighthearted scoff and a dismissing wave to the blonde's concern.

"Ah, you don't need to remind me of the chick's temper. I _am_ the one who got the full treatment right in the face, remember? Besides, it's like Mom said: I gotta stick with whoever I choose...and _I_ chose Helga! Now I can't exactly say _why_ I did (aside of course from the fact she was the only person left on the list) but...I got a good feeling about this. Just trust me, okay, Arn?"

His older brother could only nod throughout this mini-speech, the words practically taken right out of his mouth. However, a relieved smile had already appeared on Arnold's countenance by the end of Milo's admittance and full-hearted acceptance of the upcoming trial.

"Alright, Milo— Just remember that me, Bonnie, Mr. Hyunh and everyone else will close by just in case you need us, okay?"

A thumbs-up and an eye wink, both brimming with confidence—those were all Milo needed to cast away whatever lingering fear still lay in the football-headed young man's mind.

**HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD! **HEYARNOLD**********************

* * *

Unbeknownst to the two brothers, however, Helga G. Pataki was having a pep talk of her very own...

( **"Helga's Shrine"** by Jim Lang)

"Oh my muse, my god of ecstasy, my lighthouse of hope in a dark, turbulent and chaotic world—never in my **wildest** fantasies of you, my love, had I ever imagined such a grand opportunity! Oh, if only, if only, you could comprehend the risk I must endeavor in accepting your younger sibling as my own."

...albeit a one-sided pep talk but still...

Yep, you guessed it! Helga, as promised, was once again bowing before her divine altar. This time, she had come in hopes of obtaining a sense of spiritual preparation in advance of the upcoming tribulation about to take place tomorrow.

"And perhaps— oh blessed heavens..." Helga gave off a girlish sigh before standing up twirling like an impassioned ballerina.

"Perhaps seeing how caring _I am_ towards the boy will make Arnold realize the heart that beats behind the bluster and rage that are simply illusions, a front to the true Helga G. Pataki!"

' _And oh man, I can't believe I'm saying this, but..._ _ **thank you Olga—right from the bottom of my heart!'**_

Looks like Ms. Perfect was good for something after all!

' _But first things first...!'_

**(Music ends)**

Relieving herself of her ceremonial clothing, Helga G. Pataki, now in her purple nightgown, took the best course of action one can take when reviewing a game plan: talking to oneself.

"Just remember, Helga, old girl, the next day is going to be spent in Arnold's house. Just stay cool and do _not_ get mad! Don't scare the kid off. Ease him in with some easy conversation. That way, getting him to talk later on will be a snap! Heck, throw in a few casual questions just to be safe, too."

Exactly...! At that point, however, pulling off the interrogation would be out of the question.

First off, even from first glance, one could easily tell that Arnold and Milo were tighter than two papers glue-gunned together! As such, getting the two apart would have to wait until Milo came to Helga's house.

Second, there was no telling which of the adults at the Sunset Arms would recognize the blonde Pataki girl. She'd especially have to keep a close eye out for that Asian guy with the glasses. During that one time with the video cassette fiasco—Helga shook away the humiliation and awkwardness that episode had brought...especially in the end—that Asian guy—Mr. Hyunh right? — seemed kind of close to Milo...that is if the little sideshow Helga was treated to earlier today had been any indication.

A deeply thinking Helga snapped her chin-stroking fingers. "I'm gonna need some way to lay low without coming off as too suspicious."

Some place that none of the adults in the boardinghouse went to very often...some place where the ol' Football Head could have a front row seat to how sweet and nice Helga G. Pataki could truly be!

Well then the answer was simple...

Arnold's room, of course!

The only difficulty Helga would have to worry about is sticking to the plan.

' _Which should be an absolute_ _ **snap**_ _!'_ the blonde poet pointed out smugly.

"Just—be—nice!"

Then Helga just stood there like a confident superheroine, hands akimbo, legs spaced evenly out, and a sure smirk on her face.

For the first few seconds that is...

The smirk disappeared as Helga abruptly spun on her heel, walked out of her closet (making sure to close the door behind her), went right up to her phone to pick it up, and then began dialing the phone number to a certain best friend of hers.

' _On the other hand, it doesn't hurt to have a little back-up...'_


	5. Meet Milo Again

A doorbell's ring reverberated in the narrow hallways of the burgundy building, the Sunset Arms, the next day.

Arnold, having already returned with his little brother from school half an hour ago and just on the verge of going into the kitchen to find two Yahoo sodas, did not hesitate to walk right up to the door and open it.

Only to find none other than a certain Pataki on the other side...!

"Helga?"

Granted, Helga's arrival today had not been unexpected of course (Ms. Mahana had just informed everyone in the boardinghouse of the pigtailed blonde's upcoming visit yesterday)...Actually the real surprise for Arnold had come from how _early_ Helga had come. He had at least expected her at around 6:00 (what with homework and all—today _was_ a school day).

' _Oh well, at least Milo won't have to wait as long.'_

The poor thing had been antsy all morning. This wasn't to mean Milo was nervous—far from it! On the contrary, the young Mahana had been radiating excitement all morning! It was just pent-up energy, is all.

And the way that energy had been spent had been driving people crazy! Most of the adults in the Boarding House save for Mr. Hyunh, Gertie, and Bonnie had "filed" complaints of the kid messing around with the stuff in their rooms. Even Grandpa Phil had displayed signs of chagrin at Milo's incessant scampering and tinkering.

Arnold, in contrast, hadn't been annoyed at the slightest to be honest; in truth, _he_ had been the nervous one. After all, his own bully was (well _had_ been) coming to spend time with Milo, a little spirit with a temper and a smart tongue to match. The thought of such a personality clashing with that of Helga's was disconcerting at best.

Luckily, the girl of Arnold's thoughts broke him out of his worrywart rumination through her snarky tone and sharp voice.

"Hey, football-head, how's tricks? I'll just cut straight to the chase. Apparently due to some psychotic Mother Teresa phase my older sister's experiencing, it looks like I've landed a spot to play nanny for some kid named..."

Helga, who had, up until this point, had been fixing Arnold with a disinterested look, scrunched her monobrow and stroked her chin as if trying to her hardest to remember the name of her new "little sibling."

"Lilo Banana?" There was no mistaking the blonde female's slight wry smirk during her obviously intentional mix-up.

The arms- crossed, frowning Arnold standing in the doorway was not amused.

" _Milo Mahana_ , Helga..."

His response fell on deaf ears as the addressed stomped her way inside and out of the golden sunlight and cool air of the spring afternoon, roughly pushed past him, and promptly marched right into the interior of the boardinghouse. As far as the football-headed young man was concerned, her temporary gaze-over of the place did not seem to guarantee a favorable opinion.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the only reason I walked over here was because the stinkin' rules state that the older sib's the one that visits first. Sure, I could have blown that rule aside," Helga continued, waving a hand around dismissively, "but then again that would've meant another hour of lecture time with Ms. Perfect all because I _'went out of line.'_ "

The pigtailed blonde did air quotes with her fingers as she spitted out the last four words with clear disdain.

Once again, the blonde female gave the part of the boardinghouse around her another look... only this time in search of a certain little kid.

"So where is the shrimp? You gotta have 'im stuffed up somewhere. Am I right, football head?" Helga joked, turning her head back to fix Arnold with another wry smirk.

Arnold's eyes only narrowed further. " _Helga_..."

The female blonde raised her monobrow in puzzlement initially at the response but then merely scoffed derisively. "Sheesh, grow a sense of humor, for crying out loud."

As usual, though, the young lady's sarcasm-flinging mouth only served as a front to her more concerned thoughts.

' _Criminy, old girl, could you_ _ **get**_ _any more difficult? Focus, Helga, you're supposed to be proving to Arnold how_ _ **nice**_ _you are!'_

No such luck so far though...so it was time to take a different approach...one that would be awkward for the female blonde to go through, to say the least...but still necessary nevertheless...

Helga, her scowl beginning to wane—Arnold, if his curious and confused countenance was any indication, did _not_ overlook that changing detail—was just on the verge of giving a reluctant though heartfelt apology to the boy before a voice oddly mellow for a seven-year old sprung into the air.

"You hafta to admit, Arnold. That joke _was_ pretty funny!"

Arnold and Helga, the latter being subconsciously both frustrated at and thankful for the interruption, shifted their visions to the top of the stairs.

Sure enough, there stood Milo, donning a bright grin that, though not much different from the ones normally given by Arnold, held a strong trace of mischief and curiosity in those sparkling emerald eyes.

Stepping down the creaking, wooden stairs nonchalantly with one arm behind his back and the other out to the side—Helga couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the dull-silver monkey wrench swinging around via his pointer finger— the younger boy kept grinning coolly as he continued his quirky commentary.

"And true, too..."

A mental sigh sounded in Arnold's head. Sometimes the boy's casual manner knew no bounds. However...Arnold had to chuckle a bit and smile. He felt rather grateful that Milo had taken Helga's joke in stride rather than in retaliation.

' _The last thing these two need is a fight...especially after what happened yesterday.'_

Helga, much to the optimist's further gratitude, couldn't help smiling genuinely at the boy's light-hearted manner.

' _Y'know, I think I could get to like this kid a little bit,'_ she mused before turning to Arnold with a smirk.

"Like I said, tyke knows the drill already," the pigtailed lover of sarcasm reminded the football-headed young man in a snarky manner once again. "...So, Tiny, what's there to do in this joint?"

However, when Helga looked at the spot at the bottom of the stairs at which Milo had stopped...

No Milo...

A wide –eyed Helga had to rigorously shake her head _twice_ and rub her pupils to convince herself of this sudden disappearance.

' _What the—Oh come on, barely ten seconds and I already lose him?—well okay me and_ _ **Football Head**_ _lose him, but still...! '_

Trying her best to utilize annoyance to cloak her panic, Helga snapped her head to Arnold, fixing him with a firm scowl that demanded answers immediately!

"Alright, Football Head, where did he go?"

"Huh...oh sorry, Helga! What were you saying?" Much to Helga's chagrin, he'd been looking off in a whole other direction rather than focusing his attention on the irascible female before him.

Predictably, the Pataki girl felt anything but amusement. She rolled her eyes before facepalming. _'Of all the times for this yutz to fly off on an all-expense paid trip to Daydream City...!'_

" _Mini-Shrimp_ , Shrimp! Where the heck did the little squirt go off to?" Deep down, Helga had to cringe a bit at her own words. Right now, she was bombing quite spectacularly her one and only chance to reveal her true self to her beloved. Even so, though, underneath all the rage, the temperamental girl couldn't deny a bit of maternal worry for Milo. There was no telling whether the kid was poking around in some place he shouldn't be and here Arnoldo was daydreaming as if he couldn't care less where his own sibling was!

At the caustic tone and harsh words, Arnold regained the same distempered expression from prior, although this time there was a bit of hurt as well as brotherly concern that shone through his eyes. That look instantly made the Pataki girl lose the edge in her scowl.

"Helga, _please_ don't call him that. His name is Milo... and, if you're really serious and really _do_ want to get along with him, then at least _try_ to be nice. All he wants is a chance to patch things up with you."

Words, for once, failed Helga...her face now laden with blank, expanded eyes and a small frown, all previous anger now dissipated.

"Patch things up, eh...?" The female blonde gazed off to the side pensively as she said these words.

A perplexed Arnold tilted his head to the side. _'Is she...okay?'_

"Helga...?" His head returned to its upright position. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm...?" Helga, her attention now caught, slightly shook her head before replying. "Oh, it's nothing, Football-H—I-I mean Arnold."

Though raising his eyebrows in moderate surprise at her self-correction of his name, Arnold chose to ignore it and thus reset his focus. "Are you sure? It just looks like you have something on your mind."

As usual, Helga became defensive, albeit less than normal, all conditions considered. "Well, nothing's on my mind! It's just—"

' _Oh, what's the use?'_ thought Helga in defeat as she eyes her gaze away from Arnold and rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Okay, look, Arnoldo, the truth is...well maybe somewhere deep down within the darkest depths of the corrupt, moral-deficient corridors of my very being...maybe a part of me actually _does_ wanna get to know the little guy a little. I mean, I'm not planning on being a perfect freak of nature like a certain 'Big Sis' of mine, but..."

Could she really tell Arnold the truth? After all, this matter _was_ concerning his brother...

' _Just stick to the plan, Helga, old girl. Stick to the plan.'_

"I guess you could say I saw a bit of...potential the day I met 'im. In which case, I decided, 'Hey, why not take the kid under my wing for a while?' Besides, Hair Boy, _someone's_ gotta make sure he doesn't end up as a total stick-in-the-mud."

The Pataki girl even allowed a genuine grin to grace her face!

Arnold...Arnold...he wasn't sure what to say.

But he knew one thing for sure...

"Wow, r-really? Helga, that's great!" The boy coughed to slow down and regain his composure, rubbing his neck sheepishly for the first few seconds afterwards as he continued. I-I mean, that you're willing to give a Milo a chance that is. He really is smart for his age, and everybody in the boardinghouse is proud of him for that. But's he's still just a kid like you, me, and the others...and well...I am the only other kid he's used to besides Gerald...The fact that you're here might be the best thing that's ever happened to him."

True, she wasn't begging and pleading him to be her best friend—heck, Arnold wasn't the kind of guy to even _desire_ to make friends in such a piteous manner anyway, especially in Helga's case—and she definitely wasn't spilling out to him her deepest, darkest secrets...

But to hear her admit her willingness to bond with Milo...well our ever-eager optimist was _more_ than ready to accept, even support, his "somewhat-rival's" resolve.

' _I_ _ **knew**_ _she couldn't be that mean!'_

To say the least, the aforementioned "somewhat-rival" felt almost speechless...

"R-really...?"

Arnold nodded. "Really..."

"Well, gee, uh...well, I gotta admit the tyke had some serious guts to stand his ground like that." Helga swung a fist through the air to punctuate her point. "Heck, the kid was practically as chill as ice!"

"Yeah, he's really, really good at that." Once again, Arnold looked off to the side. Helga, lost in her own thoughts, didn't notice. She did notice, however, how far her defenses had been brought down by this point.

She shook her head furiously before fixing the young man before her with the best seething glare she could muster. Luckily, this time Arnold noticed quickly enough to give the other blonde his undivided attention.

"Uh, b-but don't think that means I'm going soft, _Arnoldo_! Just because I'm starting to respect the kid doesn't mean it's a signal for ya to get any funny ideas about getting all buddy-buddy with me, _Head Boy_!"

Honestly, what else could the eternal optimist do besides a sigh, an eye roll, and, of course, "Whatever you say, Helga."

"Darn—right! Now come on already and help me find the kid before the air vents decide to make a meal outta him."

Helga couldn't help but notice out of the corner of her eye the small laugh that Arnold tried in vain to hide from her.

' _Okay, good job on the joke, so just keep it up Helga. You're doing great!'_

"Actually, Helga, we won't really need to go looking for him."

' _Wait...what?'_ Helga raised half her monobrow in bafflement.

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

Suddenly and much to the tomboy's further confusion Arnold merely gave an honest grin before pointing to the entrance of the boarding house living room.

Helga, not quite certain how the living room would be the first place in which to search for Milo...but also not willing to spend the remainder of her day playing a coerced version of "Hide and Go Seek", shrugged to no one in particular before marching past Arnold and right into the living room...

...only to come upon a rather unexpected (though quite interesting) sight...

Right there on the wooden floor of the living room, miscellaneous parts scattered all around him—all the parts, Helga noted, seeming to be what once consisted of a TV minutes ago—was none other with Milo himself.

The little human gremlin did not acknowledge the present of the flaxen visitor, though. He appeared to be far too wrapped up in his own tinkering to even notice.

To say the least...Helga found herself (understandably, of course) taken back by the scene before her. When she had mentally preparing herself on the way to the Boarding House, she had running through her mind the possible scenarios she had been expecting to find Arnold's non-blood related sibling in.

Coming across his dismantling of the television had clearly _not_ been one of them.

Oh and there was also the fact that a dozen animals, a very familiar pig included, were watching the boy at work as if in actual interest.

Speaking of the animals, all of them, to the pigtailed blonde's slight surprise (and perhaps discomfort), shifted their heads immediately in her direction upon her entrance. Needless to say, the next few seconds had been an unintended and, quite frankly, awkward stare-off. A bunch of confused kids gawking at her...? Sure, Helga Pataki could handle _that_ scenario with her spitfire and take-no-prisoners attitude...

Animals, however, were a bit of rough territory for her...especially after a certain fiasco involving a certain parrot...

Yet Milo still hadn't noticed her, much less _looked_ at her.

To say the least, being ignored wasn't a stranger to Helga. She had Big Bob, Miriam, and Olga to thank for _that_ familiarity. However, being ignored by a little kid in particular...that sort of situation didn't do wonders for the girl's temper.

In fact, Helga, her monobrow furrowing in aggravation, felt herself just on the verge of barking out in order to get the kid's rapt attention. Thankfully (at least in Arnold's opinion), Milo never gave her the opportunity.

"Hi, Helga."

Okay, and scratch that part about Milo not noticing her. He _had_ noticed her; he simply hadn't _looked_ at her.

In Arnold's case, on the other hand...the sepia-toned child quickly noted his older brother's presence (much faster than he had noted Helga's, the carnation-dressed dynamo realized in increasing irritation).

Speaking of Arnold, the oddly-shaped do-gooder seemed rather...well, not so much upset, as the pigtailed companion had anticipated, at the younger boy's action as much frankly bothered. If one took a closer look, though, like Helga did due to her current proximity to him (which was really making the task of her maintaining her act together increasing difficult—Arnold was so close to her that she could smell his ocean breeze shampoo in droves _—'Oh...I think I'm gonna die!'_ ), a flash of amusement.

Actually, now that Helga thought it, this little scene _was_ rather comical.

After all, a little kid who's not even ten yet, using a wrench expertly in order to tinker with the insides of a TV, all the while with an audience of animals observing him like some sort of allegory-fashioned congregation...?

All in all, the scene itself looked like it belonged in a fairy tale rather than real-life!

But anyway, back to _real life_ itself...

Helga, by now, had dropped her scowl, but maintained in its place a perplexed stare and frown. She honestly felt mystified, watching this spectacle take place.

' _Looks like Pheebs' got some competition after all...'_

" _Milo_...," sound Arnold, crossing his arms and trying to sound irked (though failing in that regard on account of some of his amusement peeking through).

The addressed looked up from his work and gave a head tilt that any girl besides Helga would have cooed like a dove over. "What?"

"At least wait for me _before_ you start doing taking things from the TV apart or touching them. You might hurt yourself."

An easygoing scoff escaped the younger boy as he waved off his older sib's concern, touching as it was.

"Oh, don't worry, Arnold. I've done this _millions_ of times! I practically know the pieces like the back of my hand! I just gotta remember where the sound channel goes and—"

' _Alright, that's enough!'_ exclaimed Helga, waving her hands to interrupt this _riveting_ conversation. Tech-nerd session was over!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, okay Stark Brothers, back it up! First off...," she paused to land a questioning glare on You-Know-Who, "what the _heck,_ Football Head?"

For the second time today, the addressed rubbed his nape, embarrassed. "I'm sorry again, Helga. This is...pretty much one of those things he does from time to time."

Everyone's favorite (or not so favorite) pigtailed wonder merely looked at Arnold blankly prior to switching her vision to an intrigued Milo, one of his eyebrows ascended almost to the hairline, and back.

"What, was he _bored_ or something? Because, criminy, Arnold," she threw her hands up incredulously and exasperatedly, "when most kids feel like doing something, they usually go outside and play like _we_ do, skip in the roses like little Ms. Perfect, do homework like Phoebe, or just, oh gee, I don't know," the young female ranted in exasperation, now stroking her chin as if being pensive...before snapping back to her characteristic scowl,"...watch cartoon shows on a fully functioning and _non-dismembered_ piece of plastic!"

A sudden tug tore Helga's attention away from Arnold and directed it to the sepia-toned tinkerer, his inquisitive verdant pupils holding a valid explanation in their depths.

For reasons unexplainable, Helga had the briefest urge to shiver. _'I swear there is something..._ _ **weird**_ _about this kid!'_

"Weird" probably wasn't the best word to describe how Milo made her feel, but it was, by far, the closest one she could supply herself.

"Mmm, yeah, Arnold and I are pretty much aware of _that_ , Helga. I've just got different tastes than most kids. And, yes, yes I _was_ bored. Therefore, I decided to dissect our television."

The sighing female blonde looked away with an irritated countenance—the question running through her mind felt too potent to pass up.

"I got a strong feeling in my gut I'm gonna regret asking, but...why did you, uh..."dissect" it?"

Milo shrugged his shoulders.

"There was nothing good on."

Everyone just remained silent for a few seconds...at least until Helga eventually decided to speak up.

Hands currently akimbo to the waist and with a wry tone but also a frankly honest expression, Helga didn't miss a beat as she spoke to Arnold.

"Welp, Football Head, I think we can safely say you and the rest of your zany yet lovable extended family won't be watching soaps on _that_ TV for a while," pointing a thumb back to the incomplete TV...

Arnold, however, never skipping a beat either, gave the girl a prompt response.

"Actually, he's gotten really good at putting things back together. His mom just prefers it when someone's watching over him. That's why I was looking over into the living room before we came in."

All the pigtailed tormentor gave was an eye roll. _'Well,_ _ **that**_ _makes semi-sense, Arnoldo. Oh, you lovable, caring_ _ **lug**_ _, you...'_

"So now that the Geek Convention is over, how's about we start this party already? I ain't gettin' any younger, you know, boys!"

Arnold nodded compliantly and looked back down at his little brother, stating all the while,

"Oh right...! Hey, Milo, when you're done, we're heading upsta—!"

The younger boy gave a one-fingered salute and signed it off. "Already done, so let's go...!"

His gesture and confident tone baffled the two blondes for a moment. Arnold switched his gaze back to the TV...only to see it back in one piece again!

' _I guess he finished while Helga and I were talking.'_

But just to make sure...the football-headed young man, though impressed with his sibling's improving knack for deconstruction and reconstruction, fixed Milo with a firm yet bright expression.

"Oh...okay, then, but...first let's make sure that TV still works just in—"

Before either nine-year old could blink, the dark-toned boy jogged back to the television then flipped the power switch on it; the device flickered to life instantaneously.

A smug grin dominated the arm-crossing seven-year old's face.

"I'm sorry, Arnold. What was that again?"

A blinking Arnold, _'Wow... faster than last time...'_

Last time, it had taken the two boys at least _two_ tries before they got the television working again. Heck, it even seemed to be functioning even better than previously!

Even Helga had to blink.

' _Huh...and here I thought only Arnold was handy.'_

"Mini-Shrimp" was just chock _full_ of surprises!


	6. Get Down to Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own only Milo and Bonnie. Hey Arnold belongs to Craig Bartlett and "Flooding with Kindness" belongs to Toei Animation (or whoever owns Bobobo).

After their odd-of-sorts reunion, the three fourth graders were soon situated in Arnold's room, the skylight permitting entrance of the enchanting, orange sun-kissed twilight. Being the first one to have entered the habitation, Helga strolled right up to the middle of the room, giving her new location a look of both feigned disinterest and secret longing, her male associates trailing in right behind her and halting right in the doorway.

Oh the memories she'd spent in this mortal temple to her angel...as embarrassing and sometimes painful her experiences here had been...

Speaking of angels...

The subject of the Pataki girl's thoughts rubbed his neck in slight uncertainty, a bit lost on what his fellow blonde might have planned for today. "So, Helga... what do you have in mind?"

After all, as far as Arnold was concerned, this day was supposed for Helga and Milo alone. He'd just be interfering.

' _Since she_ _ **is**_ _going to have to be the older sibling from this point on...'_

Helga merely shrugged. "Oh I don't know. There must something we can do around here."

Milo, much to the confusion of both blondes, perked a bit as he stuck a finger in the air. "I can introduce you to the boarders since, you know, this is your first day as the big sister."

Nuh uh—too risky—there was no telling what sort of awkwardness Helga would have to face if she ran into someone who recognized her from her previous "treks" through the boarding house. She waved a hand dismissively at Milo's offer. "Ah, I-I think I'll handle that part for myself. But, uh, thanks for the offer anyway, Sparky."

Funny that the kids should mention the boarders, though...

"Beat it, Kokoschka, that's _my_ sandwich!"

All three heads shot glances at the entrance connecting the stairs to Arnold's room to the second floor of the boarding house. A cacophony of shouts rising up from below could be heard from a mile away.

"But Ernie, why leave a perfectly good sandwich just lying there? It will just get stale!"

"Stale, smale! That was right next to me so I could get some mustard!"

"Oh well, uh, I was just making sure no one would knock it over. Isn't that right, Mr. Hyunh?"

"No! You will not be dragging me into this!"

' _Oh boy...'_ Arnold mentally groaned, sheepishly turning his head to face Helga. Not even an hour into the first day and already Helga had just received her first earful of the boarders. Fantastic...

"Sorry Helga, the boarders tend to fight sometimes."

In contrast, Milo wasn't fazed by the shouting match at all. "Nothing major, though," he admitted nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders, "...usually they just fight over bets or other small stuff. Don't worry; you get used to the racket eventually."

Raising an half her monobrow for the first few seconds following this explanation, Helga smirked good naturedly and scoffed, "Tch, please...! If ya want loud, you two oughta hear Big Bob when he's going loose at "The Wheel! You'd think he'd just lost the cure to the common cold or something! Anyway, come on, Sparky!" She gestured Milo to follow, passing a wry glance at his brother. "Might as well take Arnoldo up with us, too; being chaperone probably convince that annoying conscience of his to lighten up."

' _ **And**_ _convince his little, dense football head how much of a sweetheart I can be!'_ she added to herself.

Arnold, being the adorable blockhead he was, couldn't help shooting a confused look at the ceiling.

' _Up...?'_ Then her words clicked in his head. ' _Oh, wait a second, she doesn't mean the—'_

"Time out...!" sprang out from Milo's mouth with no warning at all, badly rattling both Helga and Arnold and almost causing them to jump back. He even had his tiny hand positioned into a "T" shape. Helga clenched her chest to still her startled heart and twisted her face into a fiery scowl. "Criminy, kid, are you trying to give people heart attacks!?"

Ignoring the scathing remark, Arnold kneeled down to his little brother's eye level, gaining the younger one's attention instantaneously. "Milo...what's wrong?" _'Is he scared about something?'_

Undoing his hand gesture, Milo calmly situated a hand on Arnold's shoulder. "Oh nothing—I just have to do my monologue first."

To that assurance, Arnold shut his eyes and sighed warily. Helga, on the other hand...found herself in a rather rare condition: speechlessness...and for once the reason had nothing to do with Arnold...directly in a way at least. _'Monologue—this kid does monologues?'_

Whereas the pigtailed romantic felt developing interest, though, Arnold felt exasperation. "Uh Milo, are you sure that's really—"

Too late was any attempt by Arnold to stop the eccentric child because, before the nine-year olds had time to blink, Arnold's room, at the snap of Milo's fingers (the action made Arnold jolt his head back a bit), dimmed to a single spotlight that focused on a very sorrow-eyed Milo, a sketchbook clutched in his hand as if it were a teddy bear.

( **"Flooding with Kindness"—** Bobobo Soundtrack)

"I know you don't actually trust me, Helga, and, to be honest, I can't say I blame you, but please here me out first! Ever since my birth, I've isolated myself because I always thought I was giving my mother less reason to worry about me and more room to be happy. Except...," he paused, tightening his hold on the sketchbook, "doing that only seemed to bring her and me back to square one. Don't get me wrong; I've tried making friends before —with the help of Mom, Arnold, and everybody else in this house, too—but all of the kids around my age aside from Gerald's little sister Timberly avoided me...all because they think I act too "grown up" for them." Now his verdant eyes filled with simmering anger, no doubt at the juvenile prejudice he remembered none too fondly. "If not for Timber, I'd have been alone like I was before." Finally, a tiny yet bright smile graced Milo's face. "Now that I'm in the fourth grade, though, I feel like I have an even better chance to make friends. For the first time outside of this boarding house, I feel like there's a place in the world where I don't have to hide who I really am. This time, there's a chance for me to be around people who are closer to my maturity level. And now that I have that chance, I want to make as smooth as a transition as possible. That's why I really hope you and I can let bygones be bygones and start over as friends, Helga."

Then out went the light.

**(Music fades out)**

With a second finger snap, the lights promptly returned, revealing a smugly grinning Milo, the sketchbook mysteriously gone from his grasp. "So, what did ya think? I wrote it myself!" He even stuck a thumb to his chest to add emphasis to that statement.

Having been silent throughout the whole performance, Helga snapped out of her stupor far enough for mind to conjure up an adequate yet still Pataki-worthy response.

"Um...not bad, kid...not, uh, bad at all...I mean despite having to hang around Mr. Wet Blanket here all the time..." she finished briskly, a finger pointed at Arnold, who, though resisting an urge to eye-roll, was smirking rather amusedly at Milo's shenanigans. Deep down, though, she practically desired to clap in enthusiasm!

' _Wow...that was pretty good!'_ Almost as well orchestrated as _her_ monologues, as a matter of fact...!

Maybe she _should_ engage this kid one-on-one more often! _'I might just give the little squirt a few tips.'_

"Anyway where were we?" Helga asked snappily with a smile, wishing to return to the matter at hand. Perplexity quickly substituted her smile, though, the second she caught sight of the same pensive frown from before on not only Arnold's countenance this time but Milo's as well.

Sighing in total annoyance then placing her hands akimbo, the blonde firecracker fixed the boys with an irritated glare. "Alright Football Head, alright Sparky, what part of my sentence _didn't_ just process in those _oh so_ stimulated minds of yours?"

Milo merely raised an eyebrow, his expression never changing. "Well...why the _roof_...?"

"Because, Sparky, that ruckus down there is driving me _crazy_...!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at the floor. "You expect bonding time to commence if we can all hear World War 3 going down below us?" _'Sheesh, I was expecting a better reaction out of these two zone-outers than this!'_

Arnold and Milo made a reaction all right...just not the one she'd been expecting. In fact, much to Helga's further confusion, the two boys merely shared a look both staring back at her.

An unsure Arnold rubbed the back of his neck once again as he addressed the other blonde in a shy manner, "That might not be such a good idea, Helga."

Helga narrowed her aqua blue eyes. Were they hiding something from her? "And why exactly would _that_ be, Arnoldo?"

"...Arnold," the sepia-toned mini-gentleman casually asked as he tapped the addressee's shoulder, gaining his attention, "if I may..."

"Uh sure...Go ahead."

"Thanks!" Milo swiveled his head to the lovely Miss Pataki. "Helga, follow me this way please..."

* * *

Okay, Helga had to rub to her eyes a bit. Can't blame her, though, since the scene right before her eyes looked like it came right of a crazy kung-fu movie!

Gertie and Bonnie, both dressed in white martial arts uniforms and black belts, were going at each other like overpowered characters in an anime! Backflip there, round-house kick over here...and—what the...?—was that a haymaker just a few seconds ago?—those ladies were all over the place! This way, that way, over there, over here—none of the children could see anything save for two blurs—one light, the other dark. Of course, Milo and Arnold, having gotten well adapted to seeing such scenes, simply waited in the background. Helga, on the other hand, could feel her speechlessness making its comeback with a vengeance! She almost had to hold her head from the dizziness experienced from watching these two women!

Thankfully for the pigtailed blonde, whatever Gertie and Bonnie had been in the middle of was coming to an end for the former, after just having executed a perfect backflip landing, gestured her hands pointed towards each other and below her abdomen—evidently a sign of conclusion. Her younger, dark-toned counterpart, seeing the signal, obediently followed suit, bowing to the elderly woman in deep respect.

"That concludes our lesson for today, Bon-san. The time grows short and other duties must be fulfilled before the day's end! You are dismissed, my student." As such, Gertie reciprocated the bow.

"Thank you...Sensei."

Then like a switch, the atmosphere pivoted from somber intensity to casual playfulness.

Gertie, right after ending her bow, donned a perky grin on her wizened face. "Not bad, Bonnie! You did tons better than last time!"

Likewise, Bonnie returned the expression in full while wrapping a towel from nearby around her shoulders, allowing the ends to hang off by her front. "You sure...? I swear somewhere I missed a step..." The Polynesian woman put a finger to her chin in momentary thought before her aquamarine eyes fell on the kids. She as smiled as she merrily waved a hand at them.

"Hey guys!"

Arnold and Milo returned the greeting, each one giving his respective reply:

"Hey, Bonnie...! Hey, Grandma…!"

"Hi, Mom...! Hi, Gertie…!"

To the confusion of the two children, though, Bonnie and Gertie narrowed their eyes as if trying to determine if their visions were fooling them, the former asking, "Is that Helga?"

"Yeah, she's..." Arnold began...only to frown in confusion when he no longer saw the taller blonde in between him and his little brother. "Uh, Milo...Did you see where Helga—"

No more words were necessary when Milo suddenly rang out with a finger, " _There_ she is! Helga, come on," he shouted out in playful exasperation, his hands cupped around his mouth, "I know you're supposed to be a sourpuss, but there's no way you could be _that_ rude!"

' _Milo!'_ Oh, how Arnold needed to facepalm right now!

Much to the expectant slyness of Milo and chagrin of Arnold, Helga took extreme offense to the "sourpuss" comment; she halted halfway from the skylight then spun in place to launch a scowl at the seven-year old smart aleck,

"What did you just—"

...only to come face to face with none other than said smart aleck's mother...The older woman's half-lidded blank countenance unmistakably read _'No, really, what were you going to say?'_

In this case, Helga couldn't prevent herself from stammering. After the scene she'd been treated to, the blonde girl was in no rush to be a target dummy for this chick's fist.

"Oh, uh...you must be, uh, Spark—I mean, Milo's Mom, heh, heh...," Helga lamely pointed out while stretching her collar out a bit in anxiety, her mind _and_ her guts failing her at this point.

With a slight half-smirk and a droll "And you must be the girl who loves making Arnold's life a living hell," Bonnie, in contrast, didn't miss a beat.

Helga, "Uh, I, uh..." _'I've...got nothing.'_

All of a sudden (and to the female flaxen's relief of course), the dark-toned miss plastered a huge grin while waving her hand dismissively. "Ah, just joking with ya! Name's Bonnie. _Ia Ora na_!" (yo-rah-nah)

Where was there a cricket when a person needed one? Honestly, the silence that constituted a blank-faced Helga's response to the foreign greeting was not impalpable—nor was it lost on Bonnie.

"Sorry; sometimes I slip with my words," the older woman scratched the back of her head a tad sheepishly. "Bad habit...I was saying hello to you in Tahitian."

"Oh...well, hey then, Bonnie!" Wow, foreign greeting aside, Helga found conversing with this woman to be rather easy…almost to the point that the blonde had to wonder if this chick possibly had any ulterior motives at all.

' _Sheesh, opening up shouldn't be_ _ **this**_ _easy! I would have expected myself to have been scowling at least once.'_

Maybe the reason came from the how warm and friendly this Bonnie lady was being. No one had ever been so open and pleasant to her aside from Arnold and Phoebe— and now Milo, too. The reality of this scenario, to say the least, left the girl with her defenses far more down than normal.

Then again, wasn't that part about her defenses sort of the point to her plan?

"You know you're not really as bad as the lady at Sunny Smiles made you out to be. You look like a pretty nice kid." Indeed, Bonnie even tilted her head and narrowed her eyes a bit at Helga as if to verify for herself any telltale signs of a "mischief-maker in the works."

Thankfully, the observation was just what Helga needed to stay on her toes and regain some of her genuine Pataki confidence.

She scoffed lightly and placed the back of her hands akimbo. "Oh, believe me, sister, that chick might have been more on the ball than you think. After all, this is _Helga G. Pataki_ we're talking about here!"

Bonnie shook her head empathically, her ponytailed hair swishing in the evening light. "Yep, definitely Big Bob's kid...Takin' charge and takin' no prisoners. At least you can back up your words."

' _Wait a second…'_ Helga wondered for a second, _'she sounds as if she knew Bob personally.'_ The pigtailed blonde gestured her hands to signal Bonnie to pause for now. "Whoa, whoa, wait, lady...how do you know my—"

"Why, is that Eleanor? Oh sweetie, it's been ages!" Yes, that's right: Gertie.

' _Oh...crud...'_ Helga forgot about that lady completely! In which case—

"Well, I think that concludes our little get-together," a suddenly beaming Helga finished briskly, clapping her hands together. "Woo boy, sorry to cut the chit-chat, ladies, but sibling-bonding fun waits for no one! Well, boys, I say it's time we head back down!" Thus, she manually rotated Arnold and Milo by the shoulders and commenced pushing them along to the skylight. Best not to let any secrets see the light of day—well evening in this case, but anyway—

"Oh hey, here's an idea! What did ya say we treat ourselves to some of that ice cream Milo was going on about?"

"Sounds good, Helga," Milo spoke out slowly, _'even though I never said anything about ice cream in the_ _ **first**_ _place,'_ "...except dinner's going to be ready in a few hours."

"Ooo, which reminds me...!"

Before anyone could ask, Gertie—the origin of the prior half-statement— pulled out of her white bag an expansive hat that had its wide brim bent upward at the front. "I better tend to the chook and yabbie! Tonight's shrimp on the barby is gonna be a beaut for sure!" A wizened hand swung through the air as Gertie said this. She then gave the kids a sly wink. "You ankle biters stay outta trouble now!"

"Um, right Grandma..." Arnold replied warily. _'Oh boy…'_

The moment Gertie was out of earshot, the football-headed young man glanced a dry look to Bonnie. "Australian styled dinner...?"

As usual, Bonnie did not skip a beat, especially with Arnold's half-lidded stare aimed in her direction and reflected on her own face. "Yep, as yet _another_ part of her Cultural Exchange idea...the whole nine-yards in fact..."

A concerned Milo, "Are you sure Grandma will be able to cook enough for everybody in just a few hours?"

A slight snort escaped Bonnie before she addressed her son. "Trust me, kiddo...Grandma _always_ finds a way when it comes to dinner. She'll be doing most of the stuff on a grill, anyway, so you guys can hang out in the kitchen if you feel like it."

And with those words, Bonnie walked to Arnold's skylight and climbed down into the room below, though not without a goodbye wave first. Milo, Arnold, and Helga all returned the gesture, despite Helga's being more reluctant than those of the boys.

Milo inhaled lightly and quickly exhaled soon after before addressing the older blondes. "So what do you guys say? Do we crash in the kitchen 'til dinner's ready?"

Arnold shrugged indifferently. "I don't mind."

Milo nodded before glancing to the pigtailed blonde beside him, a sunny half-grin on his face. "What about you, Helga? The sunrise is pretty beautiful today. If you want, you can just stay here and sightsee until one of us calls you down."

Though Helga merely raised half her monobrow at the suggestion, inside the female fourth grader's noggin was a thought of a whole other color. _'No stinking way! If I stay behind, this kid could probably blab my secret right behind my back! Nice try but fat chance, Sparky!'_

"And leave me up here with nothing to do besides being a sitting target for incoming pigeon projectiles? Thanks for the offer to enjoy the scenery, kid, but I'm sticking to a place with a roof over _my_ head." Yes siree, Helga G. Pataki may have had numerous faults, but being gullible was _not_ one of them! If this punk believed he could pull the wool over _her_ eyes, then he's in for a real shock!

Much to the blonde's dumbfounded surprise instead, however, the sepia-toned child tapped his chin and gave the sky a thoughtful look, "Oh right, I for _got_ about the pigeons...," then shot the same cheerful grin from earlier today as he eagerly waved Arnold and Helga to follow him downstairs. "Come on!"

Not unexpectedly, Arnold, being used to the younger boy's "off-and-on" casualness, did not hesitate in following. Helga, on the other hand…

Seriously, she couldn't tell whether this tyke even kept up with his own mind at all or simply liked playing mind games. _'Kid, I don't what you're up to...but it'll take a lot more than a little diversion to keep_ _ **me**_ _off the track, bucko!'_

* * *

Well...disappearing again would probably do the trick...in fact, Helga was starting to wonder whether both this kid _and_ Arnold knew about her secret after all and were messing with her just for fun.

' _Okay…I am_ _ **really**_ _getting tired of this little game,'_ internally griped the pigtailed blonde, who of which was currently leaning against the refrigerator of the kitchen. Meanwhile, Arnold sat at one of the chairs near the center table, drumming his hands on the table's wood.

Mostly in an attempt to cut off that wretched tapping noise, Helga shot out, "Criminy, Football Head, I know I'm supposed to be his new big sister, but I don't recall anything in the deal saying you get to sit on your _butt_ all day long!"

The oblong-headed young man rolled his eyes before coolly answering to the scathing remark, "I'm just trying not to expend my energy like you're doing...this is a pretty regular thing for him anyway...just like with the TV." He made sure to cease his tapping, though, at least for Helga's sake.

His female associate scoffed at what was, in her opinion, an extremely flimsy explanation. _'Nice excuse, but nice try, too, Arnoldo...'_

"It really is, actually," Arnold insisted evenly, his sincere tone catching the other flaxen off guard. "Ever since he was a baby, Milo's always been popping in and out without anyone ever noticing. I guess you could say that's kind of his style. Sometimes we tried looking for him when he was smaller, but everyone eventually decided it's easier just to wait for him to show up."

Quietude dominated the kitchen for the succeeding minute or two. Once or twice during that time, Helga raised a finger and opened her mouth as if to speak…only to come up with nothing to point out or say at all. She really _was_ that dumbfounded. _'He_ _ **can't**_ _be serious!'_

In a display of reasonable exasperation, Helga threw her arms upwards. "Well, what _I_ do then? Wait around to collect dust?"

As if to further her chagrin even more, Arnold shrugged his shoulders indifferently for the second time that day. "Well until he comes back...I guess so...except the dust part."

Helga remained silent for a few moments before slowly rolling her eyes and groaning irritably, "Oh perfe—"

"Hi guys!"

Two feet and 2 inches: that height is how far Helga jumped from the slight scare Milo's sharp voice instilled in her. Like a pinwheel, the female blonde pivoted on one foot to deliver a glare seething with annoyance to the tyke standing behind her. "Don't _ever_ surprise me like that!"

But alas, once again, Helga found herself faced with _another_ occupant of the boardinghouse: Arnold's grandpa, Phil, to be exact.

"Woo, heh ,heh, sorry about that! Milo here just likes to scare the jeepers outta folks sometimes," the old man tousled Milo's hair, not that the action deeply irritated the boy; Milo had long grown used to people doing such to him. "Keeps 'em on their toes!"

"Hey Grandpa," greeted Arnold with a wave.

"Hey Shortman, I thought I'd might find ya down here! Found Little Scamp here lookin' for one of his ol' sketchbooks. Guess the pressure of being away from his little babies was just too much for 'im!"

Milo, sketchbook in hand, shot a half-lidded stare and a frown up at Phil. " _Grandpa_..."

Failing to notice the young boy's countenance, Phil moved on to his next victim: Arnold. "Oh, I see you brought your friend with the one eyebrow to hang out with cha today, Shortman. Heh, heh, heh!"

Red practically flooded Arnold's cheeks at this point. Helga, though no blushing occurred in her case, had to exert all her will not to chuckle at her beloved's expressions. "G-Grandpa! She's...I didn't—well, you see—"

"Ah, I'm just messin' with ya, Shortman! So this is the scamp's older sister, eh?" He tousled Helga's hair as he said this. Helga made quick work of restoring her poor hair. _'Sheesh, what was up with old folks and tousling up hair anyway—seriously?'_

"Oh, just make sure Kokoschka doesn't get his mitts on those sandwiches, kids. The sleazeball's got a bottomless pit for a stomach!" Honestly...Helga couldn't tell whether this guy meant what he said or was just being a joker again.

As if the lunacity of that statement weren't enough, Milo even started giving the kitchen a distrustful glance-around, almost as if expecting indeed for someone to leap out and grab his, Arnold, and Helga's prepared sandwiches from the refrigerator.

"Actually, we heard him earlier," the dark-toned child notified his elder before offering a thumbs up and a grateful smile, "...but thanks anyway for the tip, Grandpa!"

"My pleasure, Scamp!" Phil exclaimed, returning the gesture. "Oh well, I'd better get my supplies ready for tonight."

Arnold, "What supplies?"

"Oh you know, Shortman, for the ritual post-dinner recovery. I'll betcha my entire life savings Pookie's gonna sneak a few raspberries into dessert if she can help it." And with those words shared, the boardinghouse owner trotted his way up the stairs and out of sight. The moment the elder disappeared, Arnold sighed in amusement. That grandfather of his—always telling him to never eat raspberries even when he himself incites his own mini bowel apocalypse by doing the opposite...

Storing the prospect of his grandfather's humorous hypocrisy in the back of his oblong-shaped head, Arnold returned his sights to Milo and Helga, ready to notify them of his upcoming departure to his room to leave the two by themselves...well at least he intended to until...

"Aw shoot! Uh, Shortman, the pipework up here's actin' up again! Dang nab it! I could use a hand up here!"

Did Arnold hear his grandpa correctly? _'I thought we fixed the pipes last month.'_ Then again, the structure of this ancient boardinghouse never took long to start needing repairs, especially in the case of the internal workings. "I'm coming, Grandpa!"

Just before the young male blonde left, though..."I'll see you guys at dinner, okay?"

His little brother gave a friendly wave goodbye. "Okay, Arnster!"

His personal tormentor gave no gesture at all—only a bored stare. "Whatever, Football Head."

Smiling at the odd yet endearing exclamation of the former and shrugging off the typical Pataki-style statement of the latter, the football-headed do-gooder dashed up the step to assist his elder...thus finally leaving Milo and Helga alone. In other words...

"Time to get down to business," the seven-year old suddenly stated point-blank to Helga the moment both could no longer hear Arnold's footsteps. He placed his sketchbook down on a nearby counter then cracked his tiny, pudgy fingers as his mouth dipped into a serious frown.

Helga swore her vision was off; she also swore she hadn't heard right. She raised half a monobrow at this new Milo. What happened to that smart-aleck-but-still-somehow-a-nice-guy mood from a few seconds ago? "Excuse me?"

"There are a few questions I'd like to ask first."

' _Say_ _ **what**_ _!?'_ Dinner plates couldn't hold a candle to Helga's eyes in terms of size! Now the pigtailed girl _knew_ she hadn't heard right!

"You heard me, Helga," Milo asserted, situating himself behind his chair. You're obviously planning on questioning me after we come to your house tomorrow, so I figured to at least get _my_ end of the interrogation over while I've still got the chance."

Oh no...No—freaking—way...Helga was a friend to irony alright, but the fact that the tables were being turned on her...and by someone two years younger than her, no less...? _That_ was where the fiery queen of the fourth grade had to draw the line! Especially after seeing the business like look and position Milo adopted after dragging Arnold's seat to the table side opposite of Helga and planting himself in it. His tone burrowed under her skin the most, though—almost as if he were sizing her up.

At such an assumption, the Pataki girl huffed defiantly and crossed her arms, making dead sure to match Milo's cool stare with a heated glare. So he thinks he can just pull off some lame Tony Stark impression and sneak the answers right out of her? Fat chance! _'Well_ _ **two**_ _can play at this game, Sparky!'_

"Why are you so rough on Arnold?"

"Who says the way I treat Arnoldo is any of _your_ business?" _'That's right, Squirt! Keep that nose of yours where it belongs!'_

Milo's persistence remained underestimated. " _You_ actually...Any person who treats Arnold so badly is _always_ my business. He's my brother after all, and if he gets to worry about my well-being most of the time, then who says I can't do the same for him?"

' _A faithful sibling until the very end...oh Arnold, I only pray, my love, that you realize your great fortune, your fortune of having a brother so steadfast and loyal.'_

In the real world, however, Helga sighed warily and put a palm to her forehead in mock exasperation. "Oh brother...I think I can finally see the family resemblance."

Said comment earned narrowed eyes from Milo. "Oh, so _that's_ how you see it. In which case," his tone suddenly switched from stiffly professional back to warmly casual, "I'm surprised I've managed to trick you so easily, by the way, Helga."

The addressed scrunched her monobrow in slight confusion. "What are you saying?"

To her immediate discomfort, a knowing grin appeared on the younger boy's countenance. If the blonde didn't know better, she'd say that this kid was enjoying observing her reactions. "I'm not as dense as Arnold. I'm also not as innocent as I appear. There's a reason I've disappearing repetitively. Same reason as to why Grandpa just asked for Arnold's help..."

With each passing word, Helga's eyes expanded more and more. Were there no limits to the capabilities of the boy before her? _'Criminy, who_ _ **is**_ _this kid?'_ "You mean...all of the stuff you've been doing...was on _purpose_?"

"Well," Milo slowly and purposefully dragged that one word out—no doubt for suspense in Helga's opinion. The Pataki girl's interrogator, temporarily now the interrogated, showed no bashfulness as he contemplated his next words. "Not _all_ the stuff...The part with the TV was real enough. And Arnold wasn't fibbing about my habit of 'popping in and out.' The sketchbook excuse, though, was just a ruse. Plus, Arnold has no idea that my 'habit' even had a role to play this time."

Helga...Helga was speechless! Speechless about the fact that she had a fellow plotter in front of her...and at such a young age too...and that he could very well hold the ability to manipulate her deepest, darkest secret if given even the slightest opportunity!

"Helga G. Pataki, I know you don't exactly hate Arn—"

' _NO!'_ and _'Whoa...'_ went off in the mental world at the same time—the former belonged to Helga, who abruptly slammed her fists on the table to halt Milo in mid-sentence! Latter belonged to Milo, who, despite not being afraid in the slightest, _did_ show concern after he jerked his head back. Right this moment, he felt more as if he was in the presence of a mental patient with a tragic backstory than a fearsome preteen. Even with all that blind fury pouring off in droves, Helga G. Pataki inadvertently revealed a rare sliver of something different...something no one save for Phoebe and, on rare occasions, Arnold had ever obtained the chance of seeing.

Fear.

Fear is all Milo saw. Yes, he felt the anger. Yes, he understood how close he'd gotten himself to receiving a thorough beating from Ol' Betsy and the Five Avengers.

And he couldn't have cared less. Though externally, he remained startled, his ears being well attentive to Helga's following rage-driven demand...

"Listen up and listen well, shrimp! No one—and I repeat, no one!—is to ever find out! Not the simpletons we have to coexist with at school! Not the people who live in this boarding house! And especially—not—Arnold...!"

In a far corner of the precocious seven-year old's mind lay one simple, heartbreaking question: _'How alone is she?'_

But no, he couldn't bring such a personal inquiry out in the open, especially not with Helga in such an emotional state. "Don't worry, Helga," he assured her calmly. "I'm good at keeping secrets. Quick question, though: why me?"

A considerable edge of Helga's anger up and went thanks to the unexpectedness of Milo's question. "Pardon...?" the blonde asked numbly, lost in wondering where this kid's mind's direction of thinking.

"Why choose to be a big sister to me?" Milo gestured a hand to his chest. "Why not just be nice to Arnold in the first place? You looked like you were doing a good job of that earlier." Actually, Milo knew very well the reason for Helga's act, but he also knew that Helga needed someone to vent her emotions to, and he'd have to fit the bill for now.

"Yeah well, being nice is one thing. But actually l—, "...Arms crossed once again, Helga paused then looked away from Milo, unsure whether or not to continue.

"What...?" the younger child coaxed, tilting his head to signify his close attention.

Helga dared a cautious glance at the dark-toned boy. _'Ah what the heck—it's not like anyone would believe a seven year old anyway.'_ True enough, such thought derived from an unspoken rule at P.S. 118: Little kids (as in kids of any ages under 9) are to automatically be taken with a grain of salt. Granted, such a rule only made nonsense since the big kids were just as bound to spill yarns. Regardless, the Pataki girl still took comfort in such a screwy ordain being adhered to so devoutly because...well, kids _are_ kids after all.

As such, the blonde took a deep breath. _"_ Actually...liking someone...?" she uttered in a worn-out tone of voice. "Yeah right, the entire school would make a meal outta my own carcass!"

Milo made a face that denoted "Oh man, that bites," not liking the sound of _that_ prospect—not—one—bit. "Damn...," floated off his tongue in pure sympathy.

"Exactly, Sparky," Helga agreed bluntly with a mild scowl, calling on her returning Pataki confidence and pointing a finger at Milo, "so keep that lid of yours shut and that little throat of yours stays intact. Got it?"

Her darker-toned acquaintance nodded smartly. "Then just lay off of Arnold for now, Helga. You're spending time with his baby brother, who, you have to admit, is pretty awesome after the stuff you've seen me do today," Milo had to smirk a bit at his last bunch of words but then switched back to focused demeanor, "...but also not as much of a little snot as you might think."

When he judged from Helga's dubious expression that she still had doubts, he continued his efforts to ease her into accepting the solution. "I'm not saying drop the act altogether, Helga. Just open up right here with me and everyone else in the boarding house, okay?"

All of this—All of this just sounded too easy. For Helga, if there was one aspect of her life that she was familiar with, it was the constant occurrence of difficult situations!

How did she even know she could trust this kid?

"Besides, why rock the boat at all? It's not like your reputation is at stake here," Milo added with a simple smile; his verdant eyes almost appeared to sparkle as he kept explaining. "There's Arnold, who _kind of_ knows you for the most part...the boarders who really know virtually _nothing_ about you...and would most likely love to meet you...me, Mom, Grandpa, and Grandma who know a lot about you through what Arnold's vented to us...and that's pretty much it."

He made the idea sound so simple. A place full of people where she could be herself...? Was this offer too good to be true?

Right from the beginning of this boy's elaboration, Helga found herself musing on how sensible this entire plan sounded. Start right here in the boardinghouse...? Well...Bonnie _had_ greeted Helga quite warmly, and that compliment by itself signified multitudes to child used to negligence; Phil and Gertie, their eccentricities aside, were actually pretty cool for their ages; and, from what Helga had observed during her, ahem, "rescue missions" here, the boarders (sans that Kokoschka guy of course) seemed like a very lovable bunch. And yet...what if...

' _Man, I hate moral dilemmas!'_ Helga griped in her mind, gritting her teeth and curling her hands into fists, infuriated by her inability to come to a clear-cut decision.

Thankfully for the young girl, Milo sensed that she wasn't ready to answer to his solution just yet, so he wisely stood up from his seat, ready to depart for...well some place other than this kitchen. "Alright, then, you can think it over. Dinner'll be ready in an hour, so I suggest you at least get comfortable. Things get _pretty_ kooky at dinnertime!"

No reply came from Helga; the blonde female only stared off listlessly into space, her half-lidded stare belying her pensive mood. Looks like there'd be a while before this chick would eventually come to a definite choice...

Milo merely sighed knowingly but also half-smiled with empathy. _'Stubborn as an ox...,'_ he commented to himself before turning around to face the stairs.

All the while, Helga, halfway between thought-absorbed oblivion and reality, barely heard the following words:

"Oh hey Arn—"

"Milo! Where ah you?" a familiar, Asian-accented voice called out suddenly. "Your mother and I ah about to play Pa'cheesi! Do you wish to join us?"

A brief pause of silence followed in Helga's ears soon afterwards for some reason.

"Okay! Hey Helga, do you wanna—"

"Nah, Sparky, you go ahead...," the Pataki dismissed blandly, gesturing a hand to urge the tyke to go already. She still needed some time to think.

"Sure you wanna spend the an hour all by yourself down here w—"

' _Oh brother...'_ Will that kid just go already? Besides, if Football Head _is_ back again, then hey, Helga could just tell him she had a nice chat with his baby brother and end today on a good note by leaving—easy! "Yes, I _am_ , Sparky."

...

"Oh alright, be it far from me to twist your arm. See ya, Helga! We'll talk more at dinner, 'kay?"

"Uh, yeah, sure..."

"And have fun with Arnie!"

"Yeah whateve—"

That last word in Milo's sentence snapped a now wide-eyed Helga right back to reality—and a second too late. _'Wait a second._ _ **What**_ _?'_

"Hello Helga, my love." SNORT!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to love putting Helga in awkward situations! :D


	7. Cousins and Interrogations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Milo and all other characters and elements non-canon to Hey Arnold belong to me. Any characters and elements canon to Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.

**KNOCK!** **KNOCK!** **KNOCK!**

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" an annoyed-sounding, young voice sounded from behind the sealed wooden entrance. The moment that door to the Mahanas' room opened and a larger, pale hand grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, Milo lost all chances to get a word in edgewise.

"You never told me Arnold's freakshow cousin was coming!" Helga hissed in a harsh whisper; no way was she going to shout at the top of her lungs—not on a floor full of so many potential witnesses. She might have been trying her absolute hardest to look angry and irritated at the moment as she scowled her fiercest scowl down at the smaller boy, but now that Milo looked at her...she looked more as if she were trying to beg sanctuary from some fate far worse than death (a notion probably not too far from the truth in the boy's opinion...).

As for what said fate was, though, Milo couldn't say. The young boy merely raised an eyebrow, genuinely lost. "You mean Arnie?"

' _Criminy, I am surrounded!'_ Helga slapped a palm to her face in pure exasperation then threw her hands up in the air. "Who else's weirdo cousin do ya think I'm talking about? Of course, I mean Arnie! _Do_ something about him!"

A small frown appeared on Milo's countenance at the way Helga kept insulting Arnold's expressionless counterpart. Milo had been around the country boy long enough to be familiar with how he approached girls he liked-liked; even so, though, the guy's rock-headed persistence and neutrality in mood was no excuse to be offensive towards him. "What's wrong with him?" Milo inquired slowly, this time, pretending to not see the blonde's point. He had a fairly strong hunch by now as to why Helga was at his door. "Is he sick?"

Face-palming Helga, just as the kid predicted...

"No, Milo," she slowly explained in a falsely pleasant sweet tone that dropped further and further with each progressing word. "He's just suffering from a severe case of denial. Oh, but don't worry, I've got the perfect remedy for _that_ : a good, heaping dose of **reality**!" She scowled and pulled Ol' Betsy to her face to prove her point. Even though she and Milo were still conversing with lower-than-normal inside voices, the hair-tearing rage in the blonde's voice could be sensed from a mile away.

She was _that_ steamed.

But a certain seven-year old's mind stumbled upon an interesting memory in the meantime. He craned his head sideways at Helga, narrowing his eyes in interest, crossing his arms furtively as he did. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the last time he visited, would it?"

Helga stared at her "little brother" in a dumbstruck fashion for a few seconds first, all anger gone, before sighing and dropping her fist in defeat. "So I'm guessing Arnoldo's already spilled the beans to ya about the little love fiasco we went through last month."

Milo shrugged his shoulders, memories of catching brief glimpses of a flustered Arnold and an unusually sympathetic (or better yet empathetic) Helga the most prominent remnants of remembrance in his mind at the moment. "Kinda...All he told me was that you helped him in trying to make Lila jealous...," the boy paused to roll his eyes, "only to make Arnie fall in love with you instead...he never went into the details, but I can pretty much guess that the stuff you two did together was pretty...uh...romantically intense to say the least." The kid raised an eyebrow as if to ask _'I'm up to speed, right?'_

This time, Helga shrugged _her_ shoulders nonchalantly, her mood secretly brightened up by the mention of the intimacy she had had the pleasure of partaking with her beloved. "Yeah, well, what else do ya expect, Sparky? Football Head was desperate to do anything to get Miss Perfect back in his arms and I felt sorry for the little yutz so I did him a favor."

This time, the raised eyebrow on Milo's countenance obtained company from a growing smirk. "A _favor_...? That's it? This _is_ **you** we're talking about, right? Or were you referring to another eccentric blonde chick with a crazy, secret love obsession?"

Feeling an odd sense of ease, Helga smirked and waved a hand dismissively, almost forgetting about Arnie—yeah right, like she could ever get the little freak and his famous snort out of her memory. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, another psychotic love story in the lifelong theatrical production of Helga G. Pataki..." Then she cleared her throat indicatively to bring the conversation back on track. "Look, Sparky, I just need you to help me find some way to get that creep off my back. Consider it the first favor to do for your big sister!" she punctuated with a dry grin.

"Have you tried talking to him, Helga?"

A sour look passed Helga's face the second after that inquiry had passed. "News flash: Arnie is about 1.5 times denser than your brother is. And trust me— _that's_ pretty dense," she answered in a deadpan tone.

"You could just join _us_ then, Helga." The blonde froze, her mind _and_ her words along with her, not certain whether or not her ears had just heard right.

"Excuse me?" she replied lamely with a blank look.

Arms uncrossed, Milo grinned simply and honestly. "Join us in Parcheesi—me, Mom, and Mr. Hyunh. We're almost done already, anyway, but you can still watch us. Hey, maybe after dinner, we could even show you how to play! We should have room for one more game before you have to go home."

"Um...," Helga slowly uttered, taken by this generous (not to mention sanity-saving) offer, "wow, um, thanks kid! I mean, thanks for bailing me out of 'quality time' with the future "Father of the Corn." One more of his snorts and I was about ready to strap 'im to a rocket and launch him to Planet Jupiter."

The sepia-toned boy waved a hand in humble dismissal. "Eh, no problem, Helga...I'm not sure if you've played this game before, though, so I can't say whether you'll be going home with a victory before tonight is done."

Shrugging her shoulders and setting her hands akimbo, the pigtailed blonde smirked smartly. _'Don't count me outta the ballpark yet, Sparky.'_ "Eh, I'm a fast learner. Just don't think of going easy on me, kid."

At that "warning," Milo rolled his eyes—smile still intact on his face—and well-imitated his older brother's unconsciously favorite phrase of all time. "Whatever you say, Helga..."

"That's the attitude, kid!" the blonde complimented heartily with a firm but affectionate punch to the shoulder...and a real, honest-to-God beam on her face.

Neither child noticed the proud-looking football-head of a young man gazing down from a green door at the top of the attic stairs...

...or the dull but intent stare of a grey, country doppelganger version of the young man, staring from just around the hallway entrance...

* * *

_The next day..._

"And where are _you_ going in such a hurry, kahuna?"

Milo halted in mid-run, one leg stuck in the back, mid-air, and his arms frozen in opposite directions, baseball glove in one hand and bat in the other. Behind him, Bonnie stood as knowingly as any mother could, arms crossed, a sly grin on her face. A blank-faced Arnold stood just off to the side, his hands holding a sud-ridden, light-blue dish. His little brother undid his action-style pose and faced his mother with an innocent smile.

"Just to Gerald Field—our team's going up against Mangebutt and his attack-dogs." Bonnie could only huff in amusement at her son's quirky nicknames for his and their team's higher-grade adversaries. Her amusement only grew further as Milo shot a glance at Arnold and pointedly added, "Right, Arnold?"

The football-headed wonderboy's body went erect at the emphasis placed on the last two words. "Oh right! I'm sorry, Milo. I forgot." Milo simply rolled his eyes. Arnold had been slipping up lately for some reason.

"And what about _you_ , _Miss Mahana_ ...? You look awful cheery this morning." Milo attempted his best not to grin like a Cheshire Cat at his mother's sudden blush—or the fact that she nearly dropped three plates onto the floor as a result of her suddenly numb hands (Thank goodness Arnold was right next to her to catch them all). Nobody needed to see her expression to determine how embarrassed she felt right now.

Milo had a strong hunch anyway. _'Not to mention_ _ **why**_ _, I might add. I saw the lipstick in her hand this morning.'_

"Yes, well," she coughed a bit to clear her throat before speaking. "Youboysbetterhigh-tailthosefanniesofyoursthisi nstantifyouwannashowWolfgang andhiscronieswhatforamIright ? Nosenseinnotshowingup! Imeanyoudon'twannaupsetyourbuds! Thanksforcoming! Bye!"

And before you could say David Hasselhoff, Milo and Arnold were whisked right out the door, which promptly shut immediately at their backs! The two spent the next three seconds on the top step of the doorsteps, staring blankly at nothing besides empty space...before they finally looked to each other and Arnold numbly asked, "Did you catch any of that?"

"Pretty much," went Milo in an unimpressed tone. "Basically, Mom is getting ready to snog Mr. Hyunh upstairs but thinks we're too young to hear any of their intimacy."

His older brother's stare turned in a half-lidded one, somewhere in between saying "Are they really?" and "Someone your age shouldn't know stuff like that!" Milo raised his hands in metaphorical defense. "Hey, it's the truth."

All of a sudden, Arnold remembered something important: his baseball glove was still back in the boardinghouse—in his room to be exact—so he turned back to the door and piped up in an urgent tone, "Wait, Bonnie, I still need my—"

The door swung open long enough for the needed item to fly through the air and land in a surprised Arnold's quick hands then shut closed once again. Neither Arnold nor Milo even caught a glimpse of Bonnie this time.

"Uh," the blonde intelligently stated, "...how about we just get to Gerald Field?"

Milo nodded promptly. _'We've wasted enough time here as it is. Besides, I'll have plenty of time to embarrass Mom at dinnertime tonight, anyway.'_ And with that pleasing thought mind, the brotherly duo began the long walk to the baseball game...only to run into an unexpected face right in their path, waiting for them.

The boys didn't see her until they took that last step off the porch, but there was no mistaking the large, pink bow or long, sunshine-yellow pigtails as the one and only Pataki dynamo leaned against the boardinghouse's red-brick wall, her scowl a bored one for once instead of her usual anger-induced one.

"Helga?" the two exclaimed in shocked unison when they finally noticed her.

The addressed firecracker replied with a brisk nod, a sarcastic grin, and, "Hey, Football Head, hey Sparky, how's tricks?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes a bit in genuine confusion. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the game?"

Milo had the same questions in mind. The Pataki girl was always on everybody's case about showing up at both the practices _and_ the games on time...yet here she was instead at the house of the "boy she supposedly hated with all her guts"; there _had_ to be a valid reason for this strange occurrence. _'Something pretty big would have to happen for Helga, of all people, to not go.'_

Meanwhile, in response to Arnold's reasonable inquiry, half a monobrow shot up before its owner perked up in understanding. "Oh yeah, I guess you two didn't hear. Turns out Wolfgang caught the chicken pox today, so the fifth-graders called the game off," the female flaxen explained, punctuating the explanation with a casual shoulder shrug. "Heh, it figures."

Two different pairs of eyebrows shot up at this tidbit of news. A wide, goofy grin stretched across Milo's face as Arnold, in stark contrast, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Wow, I hope he'll be alright."

Wait a sec, what? Milo and Helga stared at Arnold as if he had grown a third eye on his forehead. Where did _that_ come from?

Milo rubbed a finger into ear as if he was clearing his hearing canals up. "I'm sorry. Did I just hear you express sympathy for _Wolfgang,_ Arnold?"

At this sarcastic statement, Arnold, hands akimbo, shot a half-lidded glare down at his younger sibling. "You had chicken pox last year, Milo. You know what it's like."

Yes, that fact was true, but...A stubby, brown finger wagged in the air. "I also know that Wolfgang's never had chicken pox up 'til now."

Yes, yes, yes, _that_ was the point! Wolfgang—the meanest, grouchiest, most big-headed jerk ever to walk the sidewalks—had finally met his match in the form of something he couldn't beat up, let alone catch and throw in the trash can.

Short version: the dumb lug was beat...and the fourth-graders didn't even have to lift a finger. So why the _heck_ was Arnold pitying him now, of all times?

Helga wished to know the exact same reason. She tossed her hands in the air in total exasperation at Arnold's continual need to shower his enemies with compassion (secretly, she loved that aspect of her beloved's personality, but right now it was just being a real nuisance). "Seriously, Football-Head...! The one time karma decides to be on our side and _now_ you wanna feel sorry for the guy who practically spearheaded June 4th and got you and Tall-Hair Boy dunked in month-old gunk?"

At this long-winded rhetorical question, Arnold spread his hands out in a gesture of equal vexation, his expression displaying likewise. "Well, it just doesn't sound right to be happy that he's ill. Bully or not, chicken pox is never easy on anyone. Don't you two feel at least feel a _little_ concerned for Wolfgang?"

Two seconds of silence later..."No, not really." _'Sheesh already, Football Head, you know you're outnumbered here.'_

Milo, however, much to the girl's surprise, instead of siding with her, suddenly piped up, "Actually Helga, I think I can see where Arnold's coming from. I was _so_ looking forward to seeing Mangebutt's face when I'd show off my swing. I've been practicing it for weeks, too!"

Arnold face palmed.

Helga slingshot a smirk Milo's way before returning her attention to the oblong-headed optimist. "Oh, by the way, Football Head, I came by to drop off another nice, little tidbit of news at your doorstep."

Both boys blinked at her for a while then shared a look before Arnold finally replied, "What news?"

"The squirt'll be hanging out at my house today."

* * *

An hour later...

"Alright, ground rules...No touching anything, no breaking anything, no breathing on anything... if you want a place to sit down to do your little doodles then try the floor. Nobody cares much about _that_ part of the house anyway." Helga was laying the law down and laying it down hard! Outside, she appeared large and in charge, but deep down, truth be told, the poor girl was sitting on pins and needles. There was no telling how Bob and Miriam would receive the kid...and with Olga visiting...

Brr...Helga would rather not think about that until the time came—if the time, all gods of humanity forbid, _ever_ came.

"And don't even think about going anywhere in my room! Comprende?"

Milo saluted her in a joking manner. _"S_ _í_ _, mi hermana mayor, no tocar_ _é_ _nada. ¡ Demasiado amo mis_ _ó_ _rganos internales para hacer eso!"_ **(1)**

That response earned him a long, blank stare from Helga...who eventually stuck a finger at the blue house. "Just get inside, wise guy."

Milo nodded and saluted her once more before following her lead. All Helga could think was, _'It's going to be a_ _ **long**_ _afternoon.'_

* * *

The first sight to pique Milo's interest turned out to be Miriam, unconscious (as usual) and drooping over the breakfast bar. "Need a morgue, by any chance?"

Helga, who had just taken the first step upstairs, paused to look back at Milo then at whatever had caught his attention. The blonde dismissively waved a hand. "Oh _that_...don't bother, kid, that lady'll be lucky enough to remember what _time period_ we're in when she awakes up."

As if on cue, the head of the drowsy woman suddenly shot up from counter with a surprised "huh." Her tired, blue eyes (somewhat) acknowledged the presence of the two children standing right outside the kitchen. "Oh hi, Helga, honey. When did you and Miley get home from school?"

' _My point proven...,'_ Helga commented in her mind as she rolled her eyes, too used to her mother's daily drunkenness to bat an eyelash at it anymore. She turned to Milo, who was staring at her, and thumbed to the upstairs.

"Well, come on already! I ain't got all day!"

* * *

All in all, Milo virtually had no idea how he'd expected Helga's room to appear. The moment his verdant eyes encompassed the boy's very first sight of the habitation, almost all of the boy's thoughts went out the window. _'I guess I was expecting a little pink, maybe a few hearts here and there...but man, this place feels so vacant!'_

The younger kid couldn't have been any closer to the truth. Aside from the bed, upon which sat a few dolls, a bookshelf occupied by books (duh), and a nightstand, this place possessed a rather Spartan quality. In all honesty, Milo at least figured Helga's room would have a personal computer—he'd figured wrong _. 'Her dad's the Beeper King, right? Either that guy is pretty stingy with the money or Helga...No, no, bad Milo, bad! Switch to something else...less personal topics.'_

Breaking out of his reverie, Milo scratched the back of his head as he looked up at his surrogate big sister. "So...any plans for us today...?"

The female blonde nearly set to respond...except she stopped. That question...was actually a good one. Helga, in all her scheming, actually never considered the need to grant this kid a diversion. She'd only assumed he was the type of person who could entertain himself for hours on end doing one single activity.

Hence the sketchbook in his hands...

The blonde shrugged her shoulders in casual dismissiveness. _'Eh, not a problem, there's gotta be something around here that can distract him. Long as it's out of and nowhere near 'forbidden territory,' dealing with this kid should be no sweat.'_

But first... _'It's time we had a little chat—the good old fashioned way!'_

Helga snapped her fingers, a wry smile on her face. "Actually, I _do_ have something in mind." She dashed to a stool that had been standing in one corner of the room and brought it into the center. With a firm look of authority, Helga pointed at Milo and then at the seat. "Sit on this stool."

Milo cocked his head like a baffled bird. "Sit on this stool...?" he chirped.

The female flaxen face palmed. "No, I mean the window sill so you can do a parrot impersonation and I can throw you crackers for being a good bird. _Yes_ , I mean the stool!"

"Okay, sure," the dark-toned artist replied in a slightly curious voice before obeying.

All of a sudden, the lights went out, slightly surprising Milo rather than startling him as Helga had hoped. Before too long, a little illumination returned—in the form of a desk lamp Helga had just snatched off her desk and shined right in Milo's eyes. This time, the sepia-toned child did flinch but wasted no time in spotting a short figure emerging from a closet door he hadn't noticed before. The unknown figure meekly into the light to reveal...

"Phoebe...?"

The Asian girl waved in shy greeting in response to the perplexed boy's eyebrow-raising. "Um...hello, Milo."

' _When did she get here?'_ the interrogated wondered as he returned the gesture. Helga cut off the conversation by snapping her fingers once more. Phoebe immediately straightened up and pulled out from the pockets of her sweater two items: a pencil and a small notebook. Barely enough time Milo had to question about these articles of writing before he sensed a tall presence step in front of him. He saw Helga's shadow before he heard her straight-to-the-point voice.

"Alright, shrimp let's cut to the chase. You had the following item in question yesterday afternoon in school: a science textbook belonging to yours truly. Do you deny this?"

Milo shrugged his shoulders. Somehow, he had a feeling this chick would resort to such melodramatic measures, so he figured he might as well play along. "I don't see a reason to. Sounds pretty accurate..."

"And did you, under any circumstances, happen to open the textbook in question?" At this point, Helga began pacing back and forth, hands behind her back, never focusing on Milo yet never forgetting his presence either.

Realization sparked in Milo's pupils as the boy snapped his pudgy fingers. "Oh! _In_ side the textbook...! I get it. Don't worry; I never looked inside...although I did kind of surmise that _something_ had to be in there." He gestured his hands into a vague, open-ended prism shape to demonstrate his point. "When you shake the book a bit, you can almost hear a sort of faint rustling sound."

Impatient throat-clearing from a certain blonde sharply suggested his returning to the matter at hand...quickly; Milo did not disappoint in doing just that. "Right, sorry...Anyway, I never actually, really, literally looked _inside_ the book itself."

Helga seemed to lose a significant degree of her tension after that clear, honest answer, but her naturally defensive nature refused to accept it so easily. Everyone has a motivation or self-interest in something, even when they don't realize as such... and the Pataki girl believed deep down in her gut that this kid knew more than he was revealing to know.

She bent down onto one knee and eyed Milo as critically as a hawk would scrutinize its prey. "And how do I know that's _all_ you did with it?"

A look of mild offense crossed Milo's face. "Listen, _sister_ , I meant what I said: I never peeked inside that book even once. And if I did, you would have seen me fidgeting. Believe it or not, I _do_ have a conscience."

Derisive scoffing constituted Helga's response to an answer she considered completely bogus. "Nice story, Sparky. I'll give it an 'A' for originality."

The glare in Milo's eyes lessened but remained bright as the boy calmly but resolutely asserted, "I'm being serious, Helga. Just like Arnold, I know when I'm in the wrong." _'Usually, at least...or when I feel like it...'_ he mentally added with some amusement.

That assurance only exacerbated Helga's reinforcement of her opinion. "News flash, kid, the world's already got enough do-gooders breathing down people's necks." She condescendingly crossed her arms and glared sideways into nothing. "Criminy," the blonde muttered, "you're as much as a wet blanket as Arnold—YEOW!" An unforeseen punch to the left shoulder immediately brought Helga's right hand to it as its owner gawked in numb shock at the displeasured, unamused, pint-sized culprit responsible. "What the—?"

Phoebe shot up from her stool and gasped, "Milo!"

The addressed paid no attention to the Oriental girl; his focus was too set on Helga. "Would a wet blanket do _that_? There's a _reason_ I hang out with the guy, Pigtails."

He did not just—that little punk did just not—Helga only remained in shock for one more second before regaining her scowl and jabbing an index finger into the boldly unmoving Milo's chest. She threateningly grumbled, "Try that again, and I swear..."

Her threat never saw the light the day. "Hey, Olga, get your little fanny down here already! Your sister's cooked dinner tonight!" the baritone voice of her father suddenly barked out, boorishly interrupting the blonde and her "interrogation."

She ran a hand down her face before drolly replying back with a forcibly compliant "Coming, Bob..." ' _Fan-freaking-tastic...'_ She tossed a glance to her best friend; at best, at least she wouldn't be alone to suffer this time...not that Phoebe should have anything to worry about—after all, Helga's family loved her, especially Olga. "Yo Pheebs, you're coming with?"

Phoebe tapped her fingers against each other meekly, momentarily forgetting the emotional altercation Big Bob had just, fortunately enough, inadvertently prevented...or at least delayed. "Well, actually, Helga, my parents _did_ advise that I stay over with you for a few nights. You see, they're on their way to a marriage retreat in Seattle and won't be back for a few weeks. My aunt is coming to take their place for the time being, but her arrival isn't to be expected until sometime Friday afternoon. So, yes, I would be happy to join you and your family for dinner!"

A certain artist, on the other hand, having sneaked onto the top of Helga's purple-blanketed bed during this exchange, sketchbook open in hands and about-to-be-opened pencil case to his right flank, flicked a two-fingered salute to the two older girls without so much as a glimpse in their direction. "Have fun, you two."

Helga would not have it. _'Oh no, no_ _ **way**_ _I'm leaving this squirt up here! The potential for a busted and fatally embarrassed lovesick nine-year old is too high with_ _ **him**_ _poking around unsupervised!'_

Unless...

The Pataki girl pondered to herself for a minute or two, her friend observing her all the while out of curiosity (and perhaps concern), before perking up from realization and donning a dark, sly grin on her rotund face. _'Oh, this is gonna be good.'_

' _This is_ _ **not**_ _going to be good,'_ Phoebe oppositely thought to herself in dread. She perfectly anticipated Helga's next words before they were even uttered. The blonde had her long arms around her back, her falsetto grin matching her falsely syrupy tone of voice.

"Oh, we will, 'little bro.' Care to know why?"

Surprisingly enough, Milo was a step ahead of her. Head shooting up in mild alarm, his eyebrows scrunched up and his cherub face twisted in innocent defiance. "I don't want to go down there."

Unfortunately for him, dining with the insufferable Pataki clan would not be an option tonight. Helga dropped the grin for her typical scowl, her "true colors" shining through. "Well tough knubs, Sparky! Cause the only place _you're_ going _is_ down there." She thumbed her own chest. "If Helga G. Pataki's gotta suffer then so do you."

The brash bossy attitude did not deter Milo; in fact, it instead motivated him to take a stand for himself. The boy straightened his body and matched Helga glare for glare. "Not happening..."

Phoebe, being mediator in place of an absent Arnold, nimbly intercepted the staring contest by stepping in to be in between the two steel-willed contestants, her countenance a soft and hopeful smile and hands spread out in a sign of suggested companionship. "Actually, Milo, this would be the perfect opportunity to bond with Helga, and what better way than with her own family?"

At these words, Milo lost his scowl and his resolve waned enough to be show in his eyes.

Helga noticed and took advantage of it without a shred of hesitation. "And besides, you wouldn't want to disappoint the old Football Head, would you?" asked the blonde girl in a deceptively sincere voice, leaning towards the boy with her hands clasped behind her back. She bet all her poems—well, okay a few of poems...two...maybe one...that she had the twerp right where she wanted him, thanks to Pheebs!

Boy, she must've been dreaming. Milo thought so, as well. His bored, unimpressed stare stated nothing unlike. "Pretty sure Arnold wouldn't believe you, Helga..."

"Alright, then believe this...since you're in _my_ house, you follow _my_ orders and _my_ rules. Otherwise..." Ol'Betsy became a mat for the Five Avengers; they made quite a visual. Phoebe looked positively stricken.

Milo, on the other hand, remained as unfazed as ever. "Honestly, Helga, I've got a feeling in my gut that you won't actually hurt me. Just like how you never hurt Arnold."

Helga's smirk only became nastier. "Care to test that feeling?"

' _That's it. We're going absolutely_ _ **nowhere**_ _with this.'_ Milo's hand gently batted Helga's fist away from his face, which had a rather distinctively wistfully fatigued expression on it. "Just don't expect me to enjoy dinner, alright?" Milo advised in begrudging compliance as he deposited his drawing book and pencil-case on the covers then hopped off the bed.

"Huh, that won't be a problem," his arms-crossing opponent-in-wills uttered under breath, even though Milo could still hear her just fine—she probably meant for him to hear her anyway. The dark-toned child ignored her all the same and sulkily walked past Helga and Phoebe, never bothering to notice the latter shooting a disapproving glare at the former, who merely raised her hands in frustrated confusion.

"What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I actually made this chapter far too long (at least for my liking) so I inserted the ending here. As for what happened after Milo allowed Helga into the room, that part is going to be added in the next chapter as a flashback for character development—just so you all know.
> 
> (1) Translation from Spanish: "Yes, big sister, I won't touch anything. I love my internal organs too much to do that."


	8. Petulant Patakis

"Hey...Phoebe...?"

The bespectacled brainiac switched her focus from the furiously stomping Helga a few steps below to the younger boy walking alongside her as the trio of fourth-graders traversed down the stairs. "Yes, Milo...?"

"Why is Helga acting so...different?" the mechanic-skilled artist stole a glance at the pigtailed girl during this whispered, baffled-sounding inquiry.

Phoebe was at a total lost. "What do you mean?"

Milo shrugged his shoulders, a little bummed at having his question answered with a question, especially by Phoebe, the smartest kid of the whole school.

"Her attitude's a total heel face turn from how she was yesterday, especially from when she hung out with me and my family..."

"How did she act then?"

Milo couldn't quite blame Phoebe for sounding so confused this time; after all, she, for all her handy intelligence, never witnessed her best friend's "family-time" with the Mahana family.

The young sepia-toned child, still making sure to keep his voice low, gestured a finger inward to signal the slightly taller girl to bend down as they continued their mini-journey. Phoebe did not disappoint.

"This is how it went..."

* * *

_"So how's our favorite, little Football-Head been?"_

_"Huh," Helga mumbled in momentary blankness. Right now, she, Bonnie, Milo, and Mr. Hyunh were seated on their haunches in the center of the Mahana room, huddled around a Parcheesi board. Contrary to what she'd told her "little brother", Helga herself had no current intentions of playing; she only agreed to join in order to use the excuse of spectating throughout the game as a means of evading a certain football-head's doppelganger._

_The Pataki girl had to admit, though; this game appeared to be very interesting to play at the very least, albeit rather complex._

_Oh wait! Milo's Mom was still expecting an answer. Helga waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, uh...Yeah, yeah, you know the usual, Ms. Mahana—I mean—Bonnie...same do-gooder optimist as usual."_

_"And dis 'program'...how long it will be lasting?" Hyunh didn't ask the question in a way that signified annoyance, as Helga initially believed; the man only wished to know out of pure curiosity. Man, this guy was nearly the same way when he interrogated Helga during that whole "forbidden cassette" episode. Helga knew adults could be noisy at times, but sheesh!_

_Nevertheless, figuring she at least owed the guy a straight answer—and thanking God that he didn't ask her anything Campfire-Lass or telephone-related—the blonde shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Beats the heck outta me; I'm only in this cuz my sister pretty much roped me into it."_

_Bonnie looked up from the board to fix an interested stare on Helga. "You mean Olga, right?"_

_Helga almost fell back into her defensive mechanisms by instinct, her mouth half-opened to tell the lady to mind her own business. Luckily, her mind stopped her just in the nick of time by reminding her why badmouthing Bonnie off would be a very bad (and possibly suicidal) idea. This chick could take on Arnold's Grandma in karate without any help at all (and Helga had already seen before how proficient the elderly lady's skills were)._

_And even an idiot could tell how protective Bonnie was of her son._

_Hastily throwing back on her masking façade of ennui, the Pataki girl rolled her eyes in expertly feigned exasperation. "Yep; criminy, I swear...the things that chick can tempt me into doing to her." **'Like changing her grade A-plus to a B—oh man, does that woman hold herself on a pedestal or what?'**_

_Even though humor incited this thought, Helga felt a strange twinge of sympathy for her older sibling. Not matter how many times Big Bob hounded Helga to be just like her older sister or how Miriam rarely attempted to give her the time of day...Helga could never bring herself to honestly say she wanted what Olga had._

_Once upon a time maybe...but now..._

_Milo, not a mind-reader in spite of his precocious nature (thank goodness), merely commented to Helga's earlier exaggeration in an upbeat tone, "Oh, you mean like murder!"_

_Helga went drop-dead silent at that...not that she didn't have a good reason to. Whoa, Olga drove her nuts most of the time, sure...but she didn't drive her **that** nuts! Plus, the peppy, almost Lila-like way Milo just blurted the statement out unsettled Helga to no end. Man, this kid was having a stronger effect on her than Evil Twins!_

_Before the blonde could muster up a decent response, though, Mr. Hyunh (who strangely enough, along with Bonnie, never flinched or even batted an eye at Milo's strange comparison—much to Helga's growing sense of "weirded-out"-ness) suddenly groaned in full-scale annoyance, apparently at the fact that Milo just managed to get the one-up on him in the game._

_"H-How did you—"_

_Milo merely winked and smirked in the man's direction. "You just weren't watching your back, old man."_

_Unfortunately, for the boy, Lady Luck no longer smiled down on him either according to Bonnie's smirk and her triumphant, "Just as you weren't watching your own, kiddo—got'cha!"_

_This exclamation caused Milo to take a startled double-take at the pieces, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait...what?! No way!"_

_"Yes, way...I win."_

_Helga shot half of her monobrow up at Bonnie's move, the blonde visibly impressed in spite of her still limited knowledge of the game. **'Wow, she's pretty good at this.'**_

_Really good, as a matter of fact...seriously, Helga was actually having second thoughts about joining in for the next game. The reason wasn't cowardice, mind you; Helga G. Pataki had many faults, but being a chicken was not one of them._

_She'd been paying attention for the majority of the time yet, no matter how the blonde turned the rules around in her head, all her mind came up with was a total, if not complete, blank. The fact that Milo, Bonnie, and Mr. Hyunh had been tossing questions to her during the latter half of the game didn't quite help either. One would almost think these three people did that to her on purpose._

_Helga's stupor of awe severed from the moan of satisfaction Mr. Hyunh received from the lithe stretch he administered to his back. "Oh, dinner should be ready soon, yes?"_

_Bonnie nodded in affirmation as she uncrossed her legs then stood up. "Yeah; in fact, that dinner bell should going off right about..."_

**_RING! RING! RING!_ **

_"Bingo!" Bonnie's son, pumping a fist into the air, timely chirped. He and Helga, too, stood up from their positions from the floor and loosened their legs up to restore some lost circulation. **'Right on time as always...'**_

_Meanwhile, Bonnie, as she shook her head at her son's behavior, stood up from the floor as well and donned her dark blue jacket, which had been lying next to her during the whole game, over her red T-shirt. Helga narrowed her eyes slightly at the odd and (at least in the blonde's opinion) seemingly pointless addition of clothing. "What's with the jacket?"_

_The mother hummed in slight interest before widening her eyes and nodding her head in understanding. "Oh, just in case I wanna add a little more kick to the food." She needed **something** to hold her spices—well, the ones Mr. Hyunh made for her anyway._

_Her son, who knew this reason, too, but preferred to not suffer his parent's wrath, rolled his eyes in a sarcastic manner. "Yeah, because we all know how much she loves the taste of jacket."_

_Bonnie wagged a finger at the boy in a playfully reproachful manner. "Watch it, kiddo."_

_Nobody noticed Helga huff a genuine smile—a faint smile, but a genuine one all the same._

* * *

Phoebe silently giggled at the story.

For a few moments, Milo joined in on the soft laughter...only for his shoulders and mouth to sag in sad confusion shortly after the mirth wore off. "But now she acts as if I'm an enemy spy or renegade." He narrowed his eyes pensively. "Don't get me wrong. I know I'm a little weird and like a little trouble every now and then...but that doesn't mean I want Helga to have a hard time."

His verdant eyes returned to Phoebe. "From what I can guess from what she never says about her family, I can only guess her folks give her difficulties enough."

Sudden, faint blushes on Phoebe's cheeks compensated for the brainiac's lack of words. She honestly never expected the younger boy's guess to be so spot-on.

Milo's eyes undid their squinted state, but his frown still remained. "Is she afraid of what I might say or do?"

The bespectacled girl merely shook her head in empathy, both for Helga and for Milo. _'I was afraid we'd eventually come to this topic.'_ "Oh Milo...I'm sorry Helga's acting like this in front of you. It's just...her relationship with her family is not what one could call...'stable'."

Oh boy, somehow, Milo just knew he wouldn't like what he was about to hear—and eventually see. "How 'not stable' are we talking here?"

* * *

"Oh Helga, your new little brother is so cute!"

And cue Olga in all her overdone pep and cheer. The woman looked ready to pinch the poor kid's cheeks.

At least Milo had the decency to express a bit of discomfiture at the older girl's obviously forced positivity—and reel his head back as humanly possible. "Uh...thanks?"

Helga, on the other hand, hardly noticed at all. She was too busy contemplating whether to keep quiet and tough dinner out—or start a miniature food fight so Bob could chew her out later and then send her to her room. _'Ah please...'_

"So, Miles, you and Helga know each other...from school?" Even though Miriam asked that question with a semblance of consciousness and interest, Helga knew darn well this conversation was taking the woman all her strength and willpower to remain awake and sober.

"You could say that," were the only words an out-of-place Milo could use as a response.

Believe or not, Helga felt kind of sorry for the kid in spite of earlier inklings of hostility towards his possibly knowing her secret. In fact, the only other regret Helga had besides her chagrin at her own parents' typical accolades to Olga was that Phoebe and even Milo, much less somebody else, had to see her family life firsthand, much less be subjected to the Pataki family's misguided third-degree scrutiny.

Bob (finally) looked up from his gorging to address Milo for the first time since dinner began. "That's good. Olga here went into a program like that herself last month. Got herself a nice little sister, too... Uh...Lolly, I think her name was..."

"Are you referring to Lila by any chance, Mr. Pataki?" the addressed piped up in a rather unimpressed tone of voice. He couldn't help but wonder if Bob was just too oblivious for his own good. _'Either that or too sure of everything...'_

"Yeah that kid..."

Still making somewhat of an attempt to be friendly, Milo half-heartedly answered, "Oh yeah, Lila...she told me all about that "Big Sis, Little Sis" stuff...she said she really enjoyed it."

"Yeah right, anyway," Bob suddenly waved a hand dismissively at the boy's words before continuing, "it's good that the girl got you as a little brother. She could use another sharp cookie like you."

Milo simply furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance; the kid did not appreciate Mr. Pataki's lack of listening skills. "Uh, right..."

Helga could almost pound the fork in her hand into her skull! It was the Olga/Lila episode all over again! Only difference now was that Helga, as well as Phoebe, was the one in the middle of it!

_'Steady, old girl, just a few more minutes of this...a few more minutes...'_

"Hey...Helga..."

She acknowledged him with a bored glare. Hey, just because she pitied the kid didn't mean she had to act like his rock. He already had a parent back home for that. Lucky kid...

"I need some way to get rid of this." The kid discreetly nudged his plate of food a bit in Helga's direction; the pigtailed girl caught on to the message in seconds, but couldn't help smirking as a result.

"Why? ...Olga's fancy gourmet cooking not up to your standards?" she whispered.

"Way too _above_ my standards is how _I'd_ put it. Most of the food she's cooking is too rich for me. I'm too used to the kind of cooking that Arnold's Grandma makes anyway."

Well, here was a shocker! Usually, Little Miss Perfect's cooking received nothing but appraisal, although then again, Miriam and Bob, at least as far as Helga knew, had been the only people from whom golden girl had actually heard most of those commendations. Still, the fact that somebody found Olga's food unsatisfactory, even if that somebody was a little kid, sent a spark of both amusement and relief in Helga.

 _'Finally, somebody Miss Perfect can't impress! Oh pinch me, I must be dreaming!'_ Heck, she was practically doing somersaults in her own head!

Milo's thoughts, in contrast, were slightly more sympathizing. _'As much as I'd rather not upset Olga, I'd also prefer to avoid upsetting my stomach. The last thing anyone around here needs is projectile-vomiting...even if the idea of me doing that **does** sound pretty cool...'_

"Hey, you two, if ya done flapping your gums over there, Olga's got a story here that oughta inspire every single one of ya."

Ugh.

Helga did a face-palm. She already knew Bob's intended direction after that statement—if she only she had a sedative for herself, _'Oh brother...'_

Milo was thinking more along the lines of, _'Inspire us? What does he think Olga is: a preacher?'_

"Oh daddy, the most wonderful thing happened while I'd been in Alaska last month..."

* * *

_After dinner_

Thank all gods conceived throughout the course of humanity _that_ embarrassing experience was over! Now Milo didn't have any other reason to hang around Helga anymore! Thank goodness!

But not for the reasons most people who thinkthey know Helga would assume...emphasis on 'think'...

_'Okay, so I wasn't lying to Arnold when I said I like the little shrimp. Heck, he's been pretty cool about everything—even the textbook. Okay, so he has his moments of annoying, but then again look at my family; they're Irritation Central. Plus, he's creative, if that doodle book of his is anything to go by...it's just...'_

She just couldn't take the idea of associating someone of Milo's precocious and witty demeanor with her own family, especially Big Bob. There was a very good reason Helga was thankful Milo didn't take his sketchbook down with him. Bob wasn't exactly the understanding type.

"Is something up Helga?"

The Pataki girl shot her sight to Milo then scoffed. "What? Me? Pft, please; welp, anyway, now that dinner's all set and over with, it's about high time you hit the road, Sparky!"

Yes siree, Helga turned away to walk to the front door, ready to have the kid bid a fond farewell to the Pataki household...at least until the shrimp pulled her back by grabbing onto one of her wrists. "Wait!"

 _'What the—?'_ Helga wrenched out of the smaller kid's grasp with a look of clear irritation. "Oh for the love— **what now**?"

Phoebe, who'd been silent throughout the whole dinner and up until now, put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Did you forget something, Milo?"

"Yeah, I did," the artist replied before looking back at Helga. "Could I at least go get my sketchbook back from your room, Helga? I left it behind when...," he paused a bit as if in deep thought but quickly snapped his fingers in mock realization, "hmm...oh yeah, when you dragged everybody down to dinner, remember?"

"Alright, fine...," Helga permitted in a rather snide tone of voice, the backs of her hands akimbo, "...BUT I'm coming up with you, just in case that peewee head of yours gets any bright ideas."

Milo merely shrugged; he'd already gotten used to his big sister's sharp quips, "Eh, whatever blows up your skirt..."

* * *

The journey up to Helga's room then back to the front door hadn't been noteworthy in any sense: the kids walked up the stairs, Milo found his sketchbook and drawing supplies...

And now he, Helga, and Phoebe were seated together on the front steps of the Pataki residence, their spot illuminated in translucent yellow by the porch-light looming directly overhead. Right now, the kids were awaiting the arrival of one of the adults of the boardinghouse. Right after the very interesting Australian-styled dinner yesterday, Helga notified Bonnie of the proper time to pick Milo up.

However, due to double overtime extorted upon her by her boss, Bonnie wouldn't be able to leave the library today until midnight. Because of this complication, Milo would have to depend on someone else to bring him home.

Not that he was complaining—heck, he didn't feel bummed out at all, in fact. It just meant extra time and, thus, more chances to probe into the story that is Helga G. Pataki. _'But I can't just pierce into the big question...not yet...'_

He definitely needed to pierce this silence with an icebreaker, though. "I can't really say I like your Dad so much, Helga."

The addressed, who'd been leaning back on her hands, scoffed amusedly at this statement. "Tch, welcome to the club, Sparky...I've had ta deal with the Beeper King for about two-thirds of my young life."

Milo had the decency to cringe. "Ouch..."

Helga nodded in grim agreement. "Exactly, welcome to the life of Helga G. Pataki."

The cringe vanished from Milo's face and was soon replaced by a reflective expression. "It's not all bad."

His assertion incited Helga to peg him with a stare of bafflement. "Excuse me?"

"Really, it's not all bad! So your family is screwed up. Lots of kids could relate to that. But you also got a really good friend right next to you."

Phoebe blushed once she realized who the smaller boy was referring to. "Oh!"

Her exclamation was met by a heartfelt smirk from Milo. "Yeah, that's right, girl in blue, I'm looking right at you!"

Then he looked back at Helga, his smile withstanding. "And you also got a possible second ally: me!"

Wow...Helga never really bothered to view the little squirt that way. Now that she did, though... _'Huh...I guess that **is** kinda good.'_

Thanks to this musing, Helga allowed herself to show Milo an actual smile, although she was quick to mask it with her trademark sarcasm. "Oh joy, just what the two of us need, Pheebs: a pint-sized Picasso armed to the teeth with graphite pencils and amorphous erasers."

Her comment activated the gears in Milo's head, making the boy perk in sudden remembrance. "Say, now that you mention my art supplies, Helga, you just reminded me. I never showed you girls my sketches, have I?"

Phoebe likewise brightened up; that question ignited her curiosity and now the girl hadn't the heart to keep herself from wondering. "Why...no...As a matter of fact, Milo, you never did."

"Eh, what the heck, we've nothing better to do out here," Helga shrugged her shoulders, figuring she and Pheebs had nothing to lose. Besides, it's not like the kid's drawings would be unlike any other scribbly drawing they and the rest of the gang did themselves when they were Milo's age.

Her little brother smiled as he opened his sketchbook to a random page.

"Okay...Ah ha, here's a good one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Milo's survived his first night at the Pataki household. Will the day after tomorrow be just as smooth—and what about tomorrow itself? And what is this big question that Milo's holding off on?
> 
> I wanted to focus on Helga's beginning relationship with Bonnie and Mr. Hyunh since they'll be two of the characters interacting with Helga frequently. That's why I focused on the board game instead of the actual dinner.


	9. Spare Us the Drama

On Thursday, the school bell's crisp ringing sung through the crowded hallways. At the warning sound, students scrambled to hurry to their classrooms to beat the tardy bell.

Arnold, Milo, and Gerald were discussing the new recent development involving Sunny Smiles Siblings and Helga—two names the Keeper of the Tales _never_ thought he'd _ever_ hear being said in the same sentence.

"Unbelievable, Milo...! A couple of hours each day with Helga G. Pataki...?" he patted the smaller boy's shoulder in comfort and sympathy, "I gotta say, I feel for ya, man."

Milo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Actually, Gerald, this whole sibling shtick with Helga's been going pretty well so far."

"He's right." Arnold nodded in agreement. "You should have seen how different Helga was acting when she came by our house on the first day. She was actually kinda...nice."

Gerald stopped walking and stared at his best bud and the little kid he-was-sort-of-starting-to-admit-was-kind-of-cool (both of whom went still a few feet in front of him and looked back at him) as if their heads just popped off of their necks and did the tango.

"Helga— _nice_...?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Mm, mm, mm, I'll believe it when I see it. No offense..."

Milo dismissively waved a hand in response as he and the boys continued walking down the hall, "None taken."

 _'I guess,'_ he mentally added. He'd sort of figured his brother's best bud would be a tough case to convince. "But seriously, Gerald, Helga really _did_ act different from how she usually asks."

Gerald looked in the direction he and his friends were headed and stopped again, this time Arnold and Milo stopping with him. "Sure doesn't look that way now."

Milo raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

Gerald merely pointed down the hall. Milo and Arnold looked.

Sure as rain, the infamous Helga Pataki was stomping down the hall, scowl and all, roughly shoving away any fool unfortunate or stupid enough to get in her way.

"Outta my way, geekbait! One side, moron, I'm walking here!"

"I rest my case," Gerald duly added. He'd expected nothing less.

"Okay, I'll admit that's kind of weird to see after the first few days," Milo reluctantly admitted. Gerald, after all, wasn't the only tough case around here. "...but you have to admit; she's been that way since preschool, right?"

Humoring the kid didn't sound like it would hurt, so Gerald nodded, playing along for now. "You got it."

"So she's been that way for so long it's almost as if she knows no other way to act around other people without feeling secure about her own well-being."

At this long-winded analysis, Gerald snorted in amusement. "Since when did you turn into a psychoanalyst?"

The smaller boy smirked at him. "Ha, ha, for your information, it's called being empathetic. Say whatever you want, Gerald, but I know what I saw, and Arnold here can vouch for half the stuff Helga did around me. Right, Arnold?"

In spite of his bashfulness at being put on the spot, Arnold nodded again. _'And that's not even counting some of the things I saw her do_ _ **before**_ _Milo showed up.'_

Gerald, on the other hand, still wasn't convinced. He would've believed what Milo said, but he'd need some proof first. "I just hope you'll be ready for the full third-degree when we get inside, man."

Those words spiked up suspicion in Milo; concern in Arnold.

"What," Milo snorted, sort of catching onto what Gerald meant, "do our classmates think Helga's planning on using me as a hostage to negotiate in favor of her plan for world domination?"

Eyes wide, Gerald stared at Milo in silence for a few seconds, almost as if his exact thoughts just got spoken aloud.

Arnold subtly looked from his little brother to his best friend then back. "Uh...Gerald...?"

"I'll...just let the two of you figure that out for yourselves...," the Keeper of Tales quickly walked ahead to Mr. Simmons' classroom, leaving behind two very confused boys.

Milo shared a look with Arnold, looked back at Gerald's retreating back, and then shook his head in annoyed resignation.

_'Gerald is so weird sometimes.'_

* * *

And yet Gerald was so on the spot sometimes, too—much to Milo's shock (and soon irritation) the second he entered the classroom.

The Mahana boy barely got past the door before a good chunk of his classmates swarmed all around him, peppering him with questions galore.

Rhonda even went so far as to drop to her knees and to give him a thorough look-over as if she was trying to look for bruises or any other signs of injury. If Milo thought of this girl as dramatic before, then in this case he hadn't seen anything yet.

"Milo, you poor thing; are you alright?" the rich girl beseeched in her own theatrical fashion, her hands hovering near the boy's face.

Flustered _and_ embarrassed, Milo gently pushed Rhonda's hands away. "I-I'm fine! Seriously, you guys, I'm fine!"

Sid threw his hands in the air in over-the-top relief. "Boy howdy, we sure were worried about you!"

"Guys, seriously, that's not...," Milo stopped in mid-sentence once he fully took in that last part.

Did...Did Sid just say what Milo _thought_ he said? He took in the worried glances of the older children around him, trying to see any telltale hints of lying on their faces.

He found none. None of them were lying. He slowly swept his finger back and forth at the lot of them. "Wait...all of you...were worried...about _me_?"

Stinky shrugged his scrawny shoulders. "Well, gosh, Milo, I reckon we ain't had plen'y ov reasons _not_ to be."

...

Wow...just wow...Milo never realized how many people outside of his own family actually cared for him. Maybe he had misjudged their sense of compassion.

On the other hand, there was just so much affection a person's heart could stand. Milo raised his hands to stop his classmates' blabbering.

"Listen, I'm glad you guys care so much. It really means a lot...but, look, even though I don't look like it," he grinned and put a hand to his chest, "I can handle myself."

True to form, Rhonda rolled her eyes at the boy's show of confidence.

"Milo, this is Helga we're talking about! You know, Helga G. Pataki—the sole owner of Bessie and the Five Avengers?"

"Like I said, Rhonda, I can handle myself. And just so you know, my mom is a black belt."

Everyone gasped in awe at this information.

Stinky looked as if he just witnessed a pig tossing a tractor over its shoulder. "Wilikers..."

Harold bugged his eyes out as if his Mr. Fudgy just sprouted legs and walked off. "Whoa...seriously?!"

Okay, well, actually, Bonnie was _close_ to being a black belt, but details were details. Whatever got these guys to stop acting like mother hens was okay in Milo's book.

_'And what they don't know won't hurt them...hopefully.'_

"Yes, she is. So I know some moves." Milo rubbed one of his fists against his chest in pride. "Plus, I'm small for a fourth grader and quick on my feet while Helga's only got brute strength on her side."

Once again, Rhonda had her doubts. She set her hands akimbo.

"Don't be too sure, Milo. Helga is a brute, but she's also a _clever_ brute. She can be very persuasive _without_ using her fists."

All of the kids, save for Milo, thought back to when Helga convinced them to snub Arnold's morality lectures. The results back then had not been pretty. Needless to say, they needed the guy's "busybody-ness and wet-blanket-ness" more than one might think.

Milo was another story.

He flashed a knowing smirk to Rhonda. ' _These guys are sweet, but they still got a lot to learn about me.'_

Smirk still strong, Milo thumbed to himself. "So can I, Rhon. So can I."

* * *

A few hours later (right after school let out in fact), Milo strolled down the sidewalk alongside Arnold and Gerald. Nothing interesting passed in their conversation aside from the brief confrontation Milo had with his new classmates.

"You know, man, I actually expected them to be on your case for a little longer...especially Rhonda and Harold."

"Yeah, I have a way with words," Milo replied with none of the smugness he had back in the classroom; he said it as easily and with as much disinterest as if he were mentioning the weather, "I guess you can say it comes from arguing with adults all the time."

Confused yet mildly curious, Gerald looked to Arnold for confirmation. His blonde friend only shook his head with a half-lidded look.

"Don't ask."

Gerald wisely chose to follow Arnold's advice, and so switched to a different topic. "So, isn't today Helga's turn?"

Milo raised an eyebrow at the question. "Turn to what—come over or stay home?"

"Come over."

"Actually," the smaller boy answered, "I was planning on taking her somewhere."

Gerald snorted at this explanation, "Where...on a hot date to a fancy restaurant?"

Milo snorted back, "No...well kinda—to El Patio's—I want to visit Dad, today."

"Uh, Milo, Mr. Hyunh isn't...," a scalding, over-Milo's-head look from Arnold gave Gerald enough hint, "...isn't...gonna...take kindly to be being interrupted during work."

That excuse earned the Johanssen boy a half-lidded stare from Milo.

"Oh please, Gerald, Mom and I have done it plenty of times before. He doesn't mind just as long as there's someone with me."

 _'Even if that someone bench-presses in her spare time...?_ ' Gerald thought incredulously. He kept that thought to himself, already familiar with Milo's stubborn sense of resolve.

"Whatever you say, man... Whatever you say..."

* * *

**An hour later...**

"What did you say you need again, Helga?"

Yeah, what _would_ be so important that they'd need to go to her house, first?

"I just gotta grab something ...just in case."

Milo would've asked her what this something was, but he tactfully chose not to. He'd quickly learned in the past few days how easily Helga could snap from mild to furious in under three seconds if she felt pressured in any way.

Besides, Milo was more worried about—

"For crying out loud, Olga, shut the door! AC don't grow on trees, ya know!"

That.

Milo cringed at the Beeper King's boorish voice as he and his big sister walked into the house. He quickly gave Helga a sideways look that desperately asked, _'Please tell me this won't take long.'_

In spite of the familiar annoyance at her father, Helga looked back at Milo with a gaze of sympathy.

She understood why the kid always felt uncomfortable around Big Bob. The man's overbearing alpha-male attitude never suited the boy's more mild-mannered and withdrawn outlook on life. It was like putting a businessman and a hippie in the same room together.

Without a single word, Helga gestured Milo up the stairs, making sure to keep him out of Big Bob's sight. She hadn't forgotten how eager the man had been to criticize the boy on his hobbies last night during the Olga stories.

She'd even wished the victim had been herself instead.

"So, El Patio's, huh," for both his sake and hers, she tried to divert Milo's attention onto something more positive, "so I'm guessin' it's some sorta family restaurant."

Her tactic did the trick. Milo's face lit up like a Christmas tree! "Not just _some_ family restaurant, Helga; it's the best one there is!"

Helga rolled her eyes but also half-smiled in secret amusement at Milo's excitement. This was one of those few times she'd see him act like his own age for a change. It was actually very refreshing.

"Yeah, ol' Helga G. Pataki will be the judge of t _hat_ , Sparky." Before long, the two kids finally arrived in front of Helga's door. "Okay, here we are. And remember the rules."

Milo waved a hand at her dismissively (his favorite gesture, Helga couldn't help noting in more amusement). "I got ya. I got ya."

Unfortunately, the second they opened the door and walked through it, Helga discovered she had an unannounced visitor in her room. No stretch of the imagination to guess who...

The vice grip hug said everything.

"Ack!" Helga strained at the arms suddenly threatening to crack her ribs.

"Oh, baby sister, there you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

Yep, it was Olga. And, as usual, she was greeting her baby sister with another bone-crushing hug. She seemed to have taken a liking to those lately.

All the while, Milo stood still in the doorway, not sure how to help Helga out without getting snapped in half by Olga himself.

Until a light-bulb went off in his head...With a convincing, innocent-looking smile and wideset eyes, Milo crossed his hands behind his back. And for good measure, he rubbed his foot into the floor to really sell the image.

"Gee, Olga, it's nice to see you again."

The older blonde gasped in delight once she caught sight of him. To Helga's relief, Olga loosened her grip and gave Milo her typical beam.

"Oh, Milo; I thought today was baby sister's turn to visit _you_. Did you come for more scrumptious foreign food? Because if you did then I'm coming up with a lovely—"

"No!" A blanching Milo caught his self and repeated his answer more calmly, hoping his smile would hide his discomfort. "I mean...no thanks. We were just about to go out to eat."

"Oh, then in that case, we can get Mommy and Daddy to come along!"

"NO!"

This time that came from both Helga and Milo. Olga could only stare at the two kids in bafflement and shock.

"But...why not? I just thought it would so fun having more company."

"And I just know that it would," Milo assured her on the fly, quickly drumming his brain up for a believable excuse, "but Dad wouldn't be too fond of that."

"Oh Milo, don't be silly," Olga giggled, "I know Daddy won't mind."

Maybe what Helga saw had been a trick of the light, but she swore Milo's eyes darkened for a few seconds.

"No...," his came as laid back as ever, only with an edge only Helga managed to notice, "I mean _my_ Dad."

Everything went quiet for what felt like an eternity. Helga didn't want to chance what would happen if she and Milo waited a second longer.

"Oh, would ya look at the time!" she exclaimed in a falsely cheery tone, pretending to look at the clock on her bed-stand, "Sorry, big sis, but me and Milo have _really_ gotta burn rubber if we're gonna make it to El Patio's!"

For once, Olga seemed at a loss at what to say as she and Milo watched Helga dashing into the closet for something than coming out just as quickly.

Olga's usual smile didn't exist. Instead, she just stood there.

Even though she didn't show it, Milo knew he caught sadness and hurt in the older girl's eyes.

_'I kind of feel bad for her. I mean, the overly done dinner aside...she_ _**did** _ _make more of an effort to make feel me welcome than her parents did.'_

Milo managed to evade Helga's distracted attempts to grab him and made his way over to Olga. He caught both women by surprise when he grabbed one of Olga's legs in a hug.

Looking up at her with the sweetest smile he could do, he assured her, "My Dad's just not used to so many people visiting him at work at once, so I wanna introduce you guys slowly, one at a time...that is, if it's okay with you."

Helga was beside herself at this point. What was Milo thinking?

_'Criminy, thanks a lot, Sparky! Now we'll have to follow up on that promise!'_

And she doubted her parents would react well to meeting someone of Arnold's family, much less someone who wasn't related to Milo by blood at all.

In the meantime, Olga smiled, back to her old self again, and bent down to give Milo a hug back. Amazingly, the boy didn't gasp for air even once.

Pulling back and matching Olga's expression with his own grin, Milo walked back to Helga, not nonplussed at all by her questioning stare.

"Well, time to get a move on!"

* * *

"And where the heck are _you_ going?"

Helga snarled in frustration. _Now_ he wanted to talk to them? She turned to her father, who was still seated in his favorite armchair, and crossed her arms, her face blank yet impatient.

"We're going out, _Bob._ "

Her father raised half of his monobrow in confusion. "Out? Where the crud are ya goin'?"

"Out—the same place I've been going ever since I could walk? I have a life outside this house, ya know."

Already Big Bob Pataki's face twisted in aggravation, ready to go off at his wayward daughter's sass.

 _'Oh boy,'_ Milo decided to intervene by telling the truth. That way, at least the big guy would get off both his back and Helga's in time. The restaurant would be closing in an hour.

"We're going to El Patio's for lunch. Helga will be back before nightfall, so no worries."

Big Bob didn't let up. "Ya mean _that_ dump? Why would you wanna eat there? Olga's cooking tonight. Her food's way better than the junk there."

Helga tried to cut in, grabbing Milo's arm as she did. "Gee, Bob, as much we'd like to discuss this fascinating topic with you, we're _really_ running low on time!"

But to no avail—Milo wrenched his arm out of her grasp and eyed Bob with a respectful but determined stare.

"No offense, Mr. Pataki, but food can be a lot like people," he crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders, "Looks don't always say much about what's really inside and too much can be just as bad as too little. And sometimes—just sometimes—the stuff that doesn't look fancy can surprise you. You might wanna take some time to rethink some of your perspectives."

Rethink some of his—Okay, _that_ did it!

Helga had to get Milo out of here now!

Throwing all caution out the backdoor, Helga snatched Milo off the ground and, carrying him under her arm like a box, made a mad dash for the door, ignoring his protests.

Leaving behind a wide-eyed, speechless, and stunned Big Bob in their wake...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn...Milo really let him have it, didn't he? I originally planned for Big Bob to insult Milo's family, but I like this way much better.


	10. Cordially Invited

"Not one of my **best** ideas..."

There might have been some truth to Milo's statement... because right now he and Helga were walking down a street leading to El Patio for a reason other than the time.

Bob probably needed some alone time after that brief confrontation with Milo.

Helga shook her head, both glad _and_ relieved that she managed to get the kid out of there before Bob got a chance to _really_ lay into the insults.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, he was asking for it..."

To her surprise, Milo looked down instead of smug...ashamed even. "Sorry...," he mumbled.

Helga gave him an assuring smirk, patting his back. She figured he meant showing the Beeper King who was boss.

"Like I said, he had it coming. Besides, you really laid it into him. Guess being around the ol' Football Head did ya wonders, after all."

Milo shook his head. "No, I mean...sorry if I gave you a bit of a hard time at first. I know we didn't start off on the best foot...and, well...," he finally looked up at her, his eyes twinkling, "I'm sorry about that, Helga."

Those words caught Helga off-guard. To say she felt touched by the boy's admittance would have been an understatement.

Helga had long accustomed herself to people saying things such as "Why can't you be more like so-and-so" or "She deserves it for being the way she is."

Up until now, the only people who'd ever given her real, sincere apologies were Arnold and sometimes Phoebe. Then again, that was probably because they were two of the very few people she ever bothered to listen to. She merely assumed everyone else never gave a rat's patootie about her feelings.

How wrong she was.

The pigtailed blonde, now frowning, took _her_ turn to look abashed.

"Yeah well, I guess I oughta apologize myself," she admitted as she rubbed her neck. "I was giving a hard time to somebody who didn't have to be stuck with me in the first place. Yet instead, you braved the Pataki House of Horror and Mortification just so you could give the girl devoted to tormenting Arnold the benefit of a doubt."

Her little brother blushed at these words; he hadn't expected her to compliment him...at least not this way.

It touched him.

"Thanks, Sparky."

At these words of gratitude, Milo's gaze on Helga brightened, a hopeful glint gleaming in his emerald eyes. "So we're cool then...?"

"Eh, what the heck," Helga admitted, shrugging her shoulders again, "this talk's got me feeling a little generous so I guess I can let ya off the hook."

Milo chuckled at her, knowing she would've gone easy on him, all the same. "Good, then I won't feel bad about beating you in a race then."

Helga's eyes widened at him in surprise.

The smirk on the artist's face told her everything. "Hey, we're burning enough daylight as it is; might as well get a kick out of it."

 _'Oh, not on your life, kid,'_ Helga mused in amusement as she returned the smirk back. Milo had been getting bolder around her ever since the two of them joined up. It was a nice change, in Helga's opinion.

"Hey, whatever floats your boat, Sparky. Just don't go crying when _I'm_ the one in the winner's circle."

More than happy to answer her challenge, Milo began dashing off, already leaving the blonde in the dust—though not for long. "Then get the anchor out of your pants slowpoke!"

Up until he spoke those words, Helga had just started running, eager to show him who was boss.

_Up until he spoke those words..._

She nearly tripped. Her face went blank. Her body went stark still.

Those words brought back something she'd long forgotten.

Something important...

* * *

_"Please, I wanna stay with you a little longer!_ _**Please?** _ _"_

_"Ay, mis Dios...Okay, c'mon. We're burning daylight...Helga?"_

_"Then get the anchor out of your pants, slowpoke!"_

_"Hey, wait up!"_

* * *

A slurred... _something_ leaked into the girl's ears.

Its sound stretched out like putty until Helga wondered if whatever she was hearing was one huge word.

It _was_ one word.

One that kept repeating over and over.

"Helga...Helga! Are you okay?"

Helga, finally back in the present, shook her head and looked down, only to discover Milo looking up at her with a gaze of concern.

_'Geez, did I really just zone out? Criminy, what_ _**was** _ _that about, anyway?'_

She'd just had a flashback. She could deduce that based on the fact that she'd seen a younger version of herself—the one from preschool, as a matter of fact.

But to whom did the disembodied voice belong to? It sounded so familiar.

No, that didn't matter.

Whatever that flashback was about, it held no significance, especially if Helga couldn't recognize the person who'd been with her in it.

She sighed in begrudging resignation, although she couldn't help also girlishly sighing inside.

_'Oh my love, it would seem your penchant for daydream has left its mark on me.'_

Fortunately, Helga, thanks to years of practice, managed to pull a convincing face that suggested nothing to worry about.

She only hoped Milo, for once, wouldn't be sharp enough to see through her ruse.

_'Wishful thinking...'_

And why the heck were they still standing around, by the way?

"Uh, yeah, yeah, just, uh, had a moment there... Well, what are we waiting for—an engraved invitation? C'mon!"

* * *

El Patio lay far from being the definition of "stylish."

The beige color of its walls, faded from both time and weather, didn't add much to the appearance. Spots of mismatched, dark-brown bricks didn't do it any favors either. The only noteworthy feature was the gothic style handrail that led to the entrance.

Its interior wasn't much better. Its walls decked out in a faded brown color, the blue-tiled floor the kids were walking across had tables lined out in an orderly fashion—one of the few semblances of order in this worn-out eatery.

_'Woo boy, the things Rhondaloid could have said about_ _**this** _ _place...'_

Helga could not have been more right. Even _she_ would admit this place needed a couple of good scrubs—and maybe a few pounds of disinfectant.

To Milo, on the other hand, this place could have been the Garden of Eden or Nirvana. His excitement at being here was that palpable.

Together they approached the counter where a familiar, older face worked away behind it, making sure to ready the leftover food for today's last few customers.

Mr. Hyunh grinned once he looked up and recognized the children. He pointed to Helga.

"Oh hello, you are Milo's new sister, yes?" Helga nodded, making a point to appear smug at this point. "Arnold has talked about you very, very much!"

"Oh yeah," the smirking, pigtailed girl responded with a playful roll of her eyes, "With all the spitballs, the name-calling, and the occasional tripping him over in the hallways, I'm surprised Football Head hasn't filed a lawsuit yet."

Either used to sarcasm or oblivious to Helga's, Mr. Hyunh continued smiling as he leaned his arms over the metal-rimmed, glass pane separating the counter from the food.

"Did two of you come to order?"

With the money Helga retrieved from her secret stash in the closet back home, she and Milo ordered two cheese tacos and two medium-sized Styrofoam cups of iced orange juice.

They still had some time to spare before the place closed—Mr. Hyunh agreed to walk them home anyway—so they decided to make some small talk while they ate.

"So what's the deal with that handshake of yours?"

"What handshake?"

"The one with the funky trumpet charades," Helga thumbed back to Mr. Hyunh, who was currently talking with a fellow employee near the vending machine behind the counter's right side, "I saw you two do it from across the street the day before we got stuck with each other. What's up with that?"

Milo shrugged his shoulders, choosing to answer before chomping down on his taco. He never liked talking with his mouth full.

"Eh, it's just something the two us picked up from watching the jazz concerts every Saturday."

"You guys go to jazz concerts?" Helga couldn't help feeling curious. She wasn't much of a fan of that genre of music, mind you; she was only doing her best to be an attentive listener.

"Well, most of the time," Milo answered after swallowing a solid portion his food and wiping his mouth with a napkin from a dispenser on the table. "We just watch and listen to the concerts at home...although Mr. Hyunh only listens for _my_ sake. I pretty much do the same for him every Sunday when we watch the musicians playing at Grand Old Opry."

"Huh, really...? And what exactly does he listen to from these stooges at this "Opry" thing?"

"He likes to listen to the country singers...He's a total _nut_ for that kind of music."

A Vietnamese immigrant who works at a Mexican-style restaurant _and_ listens to country music: who would've expected _that_?

Curiosity piqued more than before, Helga leaned forward on her elbows, which were now on the table. "Are you serious?"

"Yep, he even has his own guitar to practice and play songs that he makes up himself!"

"Wow, I am impressed! Ya ever heard him play?"

At this point, even a full-blown moron could see the excitement in Milo's eyes and smile. Heck, Helga couldn't help feeling a little eager herself. This kid's mood was contagious!

"Lots of times—he even plays songs he's written about life at the boardinghouse!"

As Milo continued chowing down on his food, Helga, who started taking meditative bites of her own meal, took in the new information about Mr. Hyunh.

_'Huh, well, I'll say this for you, Sparky. You and Arnoldo sure know how to pick 'em. Criminy, and I thought the people_ _**I** _ _call family were full of surprises.'_

Indeed, now that Helga thought about her folks more, the more she realized the hidden or maximized potential in each of them.

Her mother, Miriam, for instance, as Helga had learned during a certain road trip, had once been a woman who could've made the Lone Ranger look like a sissy—especially with the way she handled that mechanical bull at the roadside diner. And that didn't even include how successful Miriam proved herself to be as a temporary manager of Big Bob's Beepers.

Olga, of course, went without saying. Her accomplishments, as much as Helga would've liked to retch and gut herself at hearing them, much more at admitting them, were almost countless. Ranging from academic to philanthropic, her skills, if they were in a list, would take a year to read off all the way through.

Big Bob, for all his temper and overbearing personality, knew how to run a business with an iron fist. As a businessman, he also knew how to take an opportunity whenever it popped up, especially when it could possibly make or break his business.

And then there was Helga.

 _'The underappreciated and unneeded black sheep girl with no real accomplishments or talents my parents would bother batting an eye at,'_ Helga thought in irritation, her mood dampening at the reminder of her family situation. She fought hard to keep her face from scowling, but habits were a pain in this case.

Shaking her head to banish the thought, Helga tried to concentrate on eating, as well as something else.

 _'I would've gone bonkers ages ago if it weren't for Arnold...or Phoebe,'_ the blonde suddenly felt her face relax a degree at the thought of not only her beloved but her best friend as well. Yeah, she really owed those two for sticking by and believing in her, even when she was at her worst and even though one of them had no clue about her true feelings.

 _'Or Milo,'_ Helga went stone-still at this last tidbit, the last piece of her taco still in her hands and dangling halfway to her mouth. The subject of her thought never noticed, still focused on his own taco and content on eating it, but his big sister closed her gaping mouth, lowered her food, and smiled at him in a genuine manner.

 _'Geez, I can't believe it. The little guy really_ _ **is**_ _growing on me!'_ Would wonders never cease?

Speaking of wonders...Milo, after swallowing his last piece of taco, dabbed his mouth again with another napkin, crumbled the paper into a ball, and basketball-shot it into a far-off trash bin without fail. He looked up to Helga so suddenly and so sharply, the blonde nearly jumped out of her seat, his gaze jolting her out of her reverie.

His simple smile disarmed her even more.

"Say Helga? My mom told me about this diner just outside of Hillwood. Mr. Hyunh usually spends Saturday nights there to play some songs. This weekend's gonna be the first time he takes me and Mom with him," he placed his arms on the table, "Course, he never said we were the _only_ ones who could join in on the fun."

Arcing half of her monobrow at him, Helga hummed in suspicion before tossing her last bit of taco into her mouth and swallowing it whole. She took her, up until now, unattended, orange juice and poised the straw inserted into it so she could drink it more easily.

"Alright, Sparky, what's your angle?"

"Angle...?" Milo scratched the side of his side then took a sip of his own drink while he thought for a moment. Once he finished sipping, he took a few seconds to answer.

"Huh...I guess my angle is..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gents, get ready for serious fun up ahead! These chapters weren't exactly action-packed, I understand, but know this: there will be conflict very soon.


	11. Get It Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had this chapter planned for a while; hope ya'll enjoy it! By the by, get ready for some music cues. I haven't done any for this story for a while, so I figured now was a better time than any to get back into the groove of them.
> 
> Once again, I only own my OCs. Everyone else belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.

( **Twilight Town** from Kingdom Hearts 2)

"Wow..."

Honestly, what else could Arnold say?

Aside from maybe: _Did somebody slip something in my drink? Because I swear I hallucinated what I just heard._

Oh yeah, sure, he'd expected _something_ to come out of this sibling match-up between his little brother and his "eternal tormentor" sooner or later.

A truce, yes...

A tentative friendship, maybe...

An epic, mind-blowing team-up that would save the world...okay, probably not...

But _this_...Arnold seriously needed time to digest it in his head.

Right now, he sat on his bed, Milo beside him, both boys bathed in the orange twilight that streamed down from the skylight above. Milo had just returned from his day with Helga, Mr. Hyunh tagging along ever since they left the restaurant, the blonde departing the second they reached the front door of the boardinghouse.

Her goodbye (or at least what Arnold could hear from his place in the living room just before Bonnie came and opened the door) consisted of only a curt "I'll think about it, Sparky," before the girl walked back home by herself.

Classic Helga.

All in all, though, Milo looked pretty confident about his recent accomplishment. In fact, he was lying back on Arnold's covers, hands behind his head, eyes closed, and a smug grin on his face. He popped an eye halfway open at Arnold the second his ears caught the laconic response.

"Yeah...," Milo kept his tone even, but his eyes subtly watched Arnold, attentive to the older boy's facial expressions and body language. "I invited Helga to Randy's Diner for dinner Saturday. Mr. Hyunh's going to be playing some songs for the folks."

Arnold still didn't respond at first. He looked away for a brief second as if considering his next words before he looked back at his little brother with a nervous grin.

"Wow, uh...," he paused for a second to rub the back of his head sheepishly, "that's great, Milo."

Ah ha, something in his voice sounded hesitant. And he kept avoiding eye contact with Milo, too. What else did he have to say?

_'Oh boy, I smell a conundrum coming on—and I think I know what it's about, too.'_

"Alright, I'll bite. What's wrong?" Milo shifted from expectation to annoyance when Arnold started blushing and stuttering how nothing was wrong at all.

Arnold always sucked at lying.

Milo sat up and fixed an unamused glare on him. "Come on, Human Tomato. Fess up."

The name got Arnold's attention more than the command did.

Maybe Milo had been hanging around Helga longer than needed. It definitely seemed like she was rubbing off of him. Either that or her influence was helping him break out of his shell.

All the same, Arnold knew that when Milo wanted an answer, beating around the bush would do nothing but maybe earn him a whole world of embarrassment. Milo had ways of getting answers—and Arnold had seen (and been in the crossroads of) about _eight_ of them so far.

He'd rather stick to that number for the next ten years.

Rubbing the back of his oblong head once more, Arnold took a deep breath and opened up, knowing he was boxed in at this point. "Well...is it alright... if I came along—y'know, just as a tagalong?"

...

"You don't trust Helga, do you?"

Blunt and to the point—classic Milo; and if Arnold weren't so used to his style of speaking, he would've started blushing and stuttering again.

Instead, he rubbed his eyes with one hand grudgingly and sighed again. This question only needed a simple answer...but for a nice guy like Arnold, simple did not always mean easy.

Especially with Helga as part of the topic.

Fortunately for him, Milo gestured him to stop the second he opened his mouth to say sorry. Another thing about nice guys like Arnold: they're usually pretty easy to predict.

"Don't say it, Arnold. Your apology wouldn't make a difference, anyway. The help's appreciated, but Helga will just give you a hard time again like she usually does, especially since the place is so public."

He had him there.

"Besides," Milo added as he shrugged his shoulders, "she can't really _do_ anything to me if Mom and Pooh are there."

Again, he had him there, but Arnold still had doubts. After all, Helga G. Pataki didn't just have brute force on her side; she also had cunning and manipulation.

"Milo, it's great that she's willing to spend some time with you and Ms. Mahana, but still...I don't want her doing something that she'll regret later on. You've seen how defensive she can get."

Milo rolled his eyes at the overdone excuse as he hopped off the bed and walked to the door. He'd had _enough_ brotherly affection for one day—or at least until dinnertime.

Besides, right now felt like the perfect time for a Drumstick cone.

"Touching but unwarranted, Arnold; relax," he coolly added, giving the blonde one more look back, "I have my ways with people. Just leave Ms. Firecracker to me."

"Leave _who_ to you?"

( **Music ends with a scratching noise** )

The familiar voice, paired with the sound of the door opening, dragged both boys' attention to the doorway. Standing there, with an expression filled with curiosity, was none other than Gerald Johansson.

Milo frowned with annoyance then pinched his eyes together and groaned in frustration.

_'Fate, you really have no idea how to make things easy, do you?'_

* * *

"You... did... **what!?** "

"Gerald, just wait a second."

"I mean I know the two of you've done some really crazy things before…"

"Gerald…"

"And trust me when I mean crazy. B-b-but this is full-speed psycho! We are talking about Helga! You heard me! Helga… _G_ … ** _Pataki_**!"

"Gerald..."

"And you, Milo, invited her to dine with your folks... **without** ** _inviting_** **some backup!?** "

Aside from all these exclamations, this whole argument between Arnold and Gerald basically consisted of the latter pacing around the former's from in a manic circle, his ranting about to drive Milo off his rocker.

Geez, could that guy yell!

And trying out the negotiator/peacemaker route wasn't doing Arnold any good in calming Gerald down.

' _Alright, Arnold, apparently_ _ **your**_ _way of talking isn't getting us anywhere.'_ Milo felt ready to punch someone at this point.

On the other hand, considering the guilt trip Arnold would put him through for harming his best friend, Milo would have to take a less physical alternative.

_'Besides, I've been waiting to do this to Mr. Cool for a long time.'_

So without further ado, the plucky seven-year old gripped Gerald by his shirt collar and proceeded to shake him back and forth roughly, an effort to cut off the older boy's raving rant.

"GET—A—GRIP—ON—YOUR—SELF!"

That way shut Gerald up quite nicely, Milo promptly let go and backed up a step to stand beside Arnold, arms behind his back, a satisfied grin on his face.

"You may have the floor now, Arnold."

"Uh...thanks," Hillwood's golden boy shook his head and resumed his attempts to reason with Gerald. "Look, it's probably best that we don't go with Milo when he, Ms. Mahana, and Mr. Hyunh take Helga to the diner tomorrow. Helga might end up thinking Milo and his mom don't trust her. And even if she doesn't, we'd still end up upsetting her just by being there."

Gerald did not budge. In fact, he looked seriously unmovable with his face in a stern glare and arms crossed his chest.

Milo was not impressed; he'd seen Disney and Pixar characters give better looks than that—and that was no stretch of the truth—not by a long shot.

But he also knew Gerald would need more persuasion than Arnold did. _'I might as well add my two cents to this.'_

"Not to mention she'll likely intensify the torture at school."

At Milo's words, Gerald's face, though still doubtful, seemed to show consideration of that possibility through his now widened eyes.

"On _us_ in particular...," the younger boy pointedly added.

At last, the tall-haired boy conceded, sighing heavily. He rubbed his forehead with one hand, the other akimbo, before he looked back to Milo.

"Man, _please_ tell me you have some sort of crazy plan that goes along with all this."

For the first time since he'd gotten home, Milo smiled genuinely—no teasing hints attached.

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head, "no plan...Just simple, honest fun..."

* * *

"Precisely, so there's no reason to be wary of anyone at the eatery. You'll be just fine, Helga."

No words followed afterwards for about ten seconds, though—that brought up significant concern in Phoebe. Was Helga alright?

"Y'know, Pheebs," Helga answered back into the phone as she lay front-up on her bed, "when I called you up, the prospect of you trying to convince me that spending time with Milo and his family would better our 'sibling' relationship was the absolute _farthest_ thing from my mind."

She regretted that comment the second her best friend's angered voice belted in her ears like a bludgeon to the head.

"Helga! You should feel honored that Milo vouched for you when he asked his parents—I mean ... his mother and Mr. Hyunh if you could join him!"

Helga, though she shot up from the bed, went numb with shock at this information. "H-he...he really vouched for me?"

_'That little guy actually did that...for me?'_

"Yes, Helga, he did," Phoebe's anger had disappeared, replaced by surprised awe, "Arnold told me so at school today...before I went to join you at lunch in fact. Helga... Milo loves you."

Love...

_'Loves me...Mi-Milo actually loves me? That little squirt truly, honest to Gods loves me? But that doesn't...That shouldn't...'_

Make sense; but it did.

( **"Mysteries Abound"** from Final Fantasy)

Love...it's kind of funny...Helga always assumed she knew very well what love entailed. In truth, she _was_ a bit of an expert on the subject, in spite of her age. She knew there were other types of love out there besides the type of love she had for a certain football head. She just never believed those other kinds were anything worth having in comparison.

Yet realizing such solid love from another, love she never anticipated, even if not romantic... it rocked her to the very core.

"Granted, his love might not equate to the love you aspire for from "ice cream," but to receive such affection is still emotionally significant and...Well, I feel that you should consider it as such!"

Everything went silent as Phoebe waited for Helga to gather her wits and respond. The Pataki girl didn't need long in regaining her composure. With her characteristic smirk back in place, she set her free hand akimbo and answered back into the phone.

"Alright, who is this and what did you do with Phoebe?"

"Ugh, Helga!" Said blonde had to wince at the revived anger in Phoebe's voice.

"I'm just saying! Since when did you learn to be so assertive?"

Luckily, that question managed to calm Phoebe down; in fact, it even brought back her usual shyness. "Oh... I suppose it would suffice to say that _Milo_ taught me...or should I say, inspired me."

Helga raised an eyebrow at the giggle she heard through the phone and grinned wholeheartedly at the affect Milo evidently had on Pheebs.

"Kid's definitely got guts; I'll give him that. Sorry about earlier, Pheebs," her voice dropped its confidence and softened with what sounded like...reluctance?

"Believe it or not, I'm actually starting to get attached to the little squirt. He's not as bad as I thought."

Phoebe at least didn't say "I told you so." Thank goodness.

"I'm glad, Helga. Something puzzles me, however. If your sibling relation with Milo _is_ improving, then why were you insisting that I talk you out of having dinner with him and his family?"

In Helga's viewpoint, the answer should've been obvious. "Simple, Phoebe...I don't trust myself around him, at least not by myself."

"What do you mean?"

Helga bit back a frustrated growl and continued.

"I mean I don't trust myself to make the kid happy! _Arnold_ makes people happy! Helga G. Pataki doesn't. She makes them _miserable_! Sure, I got the kid to bust a gut a few times with some witty sarcasm, but those times were either just the two of us or with Arnold or somebody else from his zany but lovable family. There are going to be _strangers_ in that diner, Pheebs. Tons of them...Whether I'll recognize any of them there won't make a difference. This girl's still going to be in a place where exposure is _bound_ to happen."

...

"Perhaps Arnold _should_ be there with you and Milo."

Helga slapped her free hand to her forehead.

_'Pheebs, you got good intentions, but, criminy, I swear you're almost as naïve as Arnold sometimes!'_

"So I can get a chance to ridicule him every little second he's there?" Helga threw a hand through the air to illustrate her disapproval, even though she knew Phoebe couldn't see her right now.

"No way, sister! I'm already on a tightrope as it is by exposing my nice side to his little brother and, heck, even a few of the boarders! For all I know, one of those bozos we have to call classmates might pop out of nowhere."

"But...what about Milo? You can't turn your back on him."

Ugh, this might as well have been another one of Helga's attempts to hide her passion for Arnold from the public! How could one little kid make you feel so twisted up inside?

Well, that's how Helga felt—twisted...and guilty as well.

_'Pheebs is right. I mean... he's just a little kid...Well alright, maybe not just_ _**any** _ _little kid, but still...'_

Seeing him heartbroken—and being the cause herself—by just ditching him was one accomplishment Helga would rather live without, bully or no bully.

Even the thought alone made her feel horrible.

On the other hand, let's say that Phoebe _did_ end up being wrong instead and somebody from school _did_ recognize Helga and Milo. What then?

_'I already have enough worst case scenarios about those chuckleheads tearing_ _**me** _ _down! Sparky doesn't deserve to be dragged down with me!'_

Ugh, why couldn't worthwhile stuff be easy just once?

"Despite however you may feel about the offer, Helga," her friend's voice echoed in her ear once again, this time serious and thoughtful but gentle, too, "just ask yourself: What would Arnold do?"

What would Arnold do?

Helga closed her eyes to mull the question over.

She smiled.

Of course, do what Arnold would do. Doi, why didn't she realize that sooner?

She reopened her eyes and sighed, feeling more at ease than she remembered ever feeling all week.

"You know something, Pheebs? You might end up being just as good at giving advice as Arnoldo someday."

Once again, she heard her friend's bashful giggles; they sounded a little distorted from Phoebe's futile attempts to stifle them. Helga could roll her eyes in amusement at the attempt.

"I suppose I have Milo to thank for that as well. My apologies for cutting our talk short but my aunt arrived earlier than I anticipated, so—Oh, there she is, right now! Goodbye, Helga! I hope Saturday night goes well!"

"Eh, don't sweat it, Pheebs. And thanks. Later..."

Yet as the two girls hung up, Helga couldn't help thinking to herself.

_Hope Saturday night goes well..._

_'Let's hope so, Pheebs. Let's hope so.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the plot is finally coming together. Be ready for fluff and angst because that's what's on the way to you.
> 
> Until next chapter: see ya! ;)


	12. Little Boy Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the home stretch, everyone! Get ready to bust out the tissues because this chapter's pulling out some serious fluff! 
> 
> I only own my OCs and the song I made for this chapter.

Friday was uneventful in comparison.

Despite it being Helga's turn that day, she and Milo unanimously agreed during their trip back to the boardinghouse the day before to avoid the Pataki residence at all costs.

Especially with no telling how Big Bob had taken Milo's comeback—as far as Helga could tell, the Beeper King had returned to his usual business...albeit a little quieter than before.

Not that Helga cared how her dad, of all people, felt—heck, she actually took in stride Bob's slightly altered attitude. Oh sure, he still cussed a lot and called her "Olga" way too often...but something about the way he carried himself seemed... _humbled_ , somehow.

Helga wasn't sure how the change worked on Bob, but she knew Milo had been the cause of it, regardless of whether he realized it or not.

_'Although I'm pretty sure Sparky knows all too well what he did.'_

As for Olga and Miriam, all Helga could get were either overly dramatic speeches of how "her sweet, little baby brother" wouldn't be visiting again for a while or half-slurred murmurs about "Inspector Miles and his little notebook."

Anyway, now that the rest of the Pataki family wouldn't be breathing down their necks anymore, Helga and Milo had more space and freedom to do whatever they wanted—legally, of course.

Total world domination was still out of the question, after all.

"...and didn't even bother to check whether that ceiling vent had a _rat_ in it!" Milo slapped a hand to his head at the memory of Sid's bonehead move from early this morning.

"I swear, sometimes I worry how Sid's going to take care of himself when he's older. That guy has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever."

 _'Oh yeah, like_ _ **you're**_ _one to talk,'_ Helga joked in her head as she recalled the times Milo stood up to her and that one time to Bob. For the boy's sake of pride, she decided against mentioning any of that.

"Tch, you want a lack of self-preservation?" she replied instead with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Try Harold; Pink Boy blurts out whatever comes to mind like it's no one's business!"

The fourth-graders shared a good, long laugh at their classmate's unknowing expense.

"So Helga," Milo finally piped up after the mirth had passed, "what are ya going to wear at the diner tomorrow?"

"Uh," Helga, initially thrown up by the shift in topic, shot Milo a confused glance then gestured downwards to her usual attire.

Milo looked at the dress from head to toe for a few moments...then resisted the urge to chortle—but not in a mean way, mind you.

He'd been secretly overjoyed at lunch when Helga approached him at his and Arnold's table (with no one else nearby) and finally answered "yes" (even though he made a show of looking nonchalant), but he had to gawk right now at Helga's idea of fashion.

"Uh, classic choice," he amusedly commented with a smirk, "but...you _might_ wanna choose something a little...classier."

Helga stopped walking and arched her monobrow down at the suggestion. "Are you saying Helga G. Pataki here doesn't know how to do classy, Sparky?"

"Knowing is one thing. Proving is another." Looking away from the incensed blonde, Milo, stopping right beside her, pretended to coolly examine his knuckles. "Unless of course, you're afraid I'll show you up with my _own_ sense of style."

 _'Oh no, he did not.'_ Helga smirked and set her hands akimbo as Milo slicked his back as if he was all that. "Alright, Sparky, if _that's_ the way you wanna play it, fine. We'll see who has more class tomorrow night."

Milo switched from a smirk to a devilish grin and stuck one of his hands out for Helga to shake.

"Deal?"

She took his hand and shook it in response without hesitation.

"Deal."

* * *

_'Maybe it's not too late to turn back on that deal.'_

As the spacey, green Packard (taken with Phil's permission, of course) approached the lit up, old-fashioned restaurant down the forested road, Helga couldn't help but look at the building with a subtle sense of dread.

Her mind instantly rewound to her conversation with Phoebe, the last sentence her friend said to her on the phone ringing in her head (no pun intended).

_I hope Saturday night goes well!_

Hope Saturday goes well.

Oh every god conceived throughout human history... _please_ let Saturday go well.

 _'What am I doing?!'_ Helga shook her head once she realized how far she'd let worry consume her.

Praying... _really_...?

_'Wait a sec, what the crud am_ _**I** _ _worried about? Tch, I can take whatever some crummy diner can fling at me. No problem...'_

The sudden sound of a car-door slamming shut and Bonnie's firm, chipper voice broke her out of her pep-talk of a reverie.

"Alrighty, gang, we're here!"

The kids got out of the car, making sure to close the doors behind them, and followed Bonnie and Mr. Hyunh through the dark parking lot and to the wooden door of the eatery.

Mr. Hyunh wore the same attire he had during his last hurrah at the Grand Ol' Opry: a black, cotton jacket, thin, light-blue dress vest, black slacks with a brown belt, and brown leather boots. The only missing accessories were his hat and bandanna. He carried a slick, dark-brown, antiquated guitar under his right arm.

Bonnie didn't have anything fancy on: just a loose-fitting, button-up, dark-blue denim shirt with a knee-length sepia dress that was a shade darker than her skin tone, a black belt to keep the skirt up, two black boots, and a red bandanna around her neck.

Milo, to his big sister's amusement, had dressed up similarly to his father-figure; the only differences were that he had no jacket on, his dress vest was dark-green instead of light-blue, and he had a neck bandanna in the same color as his mother's.

Helga...Helga...

If there were a way for definitions to be personified, Helga would've been the one for the word "bold."

She was decked out in her Cecile outfit, flowing hair and all—just not the goofy poodle hairstyle she mistakenly gave herself the last time. She even went so far as to wear the high-heel shoes. Luckily, she managed to convince Bonnie over the phone to pick her up after she and her boys left the boardinghouse. That way, there'd be no epic blowouts involving a certain football-head.

When the group reached the door, Milo looked to the blonde, an encouraging smile on his face. "Ready, Helga?"

Helga looked back and merely shrugged in response. "Hey, ready as I'll ever be to face a hoard of total strangers."

"You say this as if this is your first time in public," Bonnie airily commented, looking back at Helga from over her shoulder. Mr. Hyunh tried in vain to stifle a chuckle at his "friend's" little jab.

"Yeah, we got our hearts in the right place!"

Helga had to roll her eyes at Milo's perky assertion. It sounded a little too Arnold-like for her taste. "Oh, I've got plenty of trust in all of your hearts, Sparky."

She stuck a finger to the side of her one head. "Those _minds_ of yours are what got me worried."

Bonnie waved a hand at the girl dismissively with a snort too teenage-like for her age, "Oh, hush! You weren't complaining last week about Grandma's cooking."

"Hey, at least that stuff was edible."

"Whatever, let's just go in already. I didn't drag you two all the way over here to have a culinary discussion."

Everyone filed in through the door, Helga being the last one to enter.

And as soon as she stepped into the restaurant, all her reluctance was blown right out of the water!

The diner interior pulsed with so much activity—no, the place wasn't crowded, per say, but everyone inside looked so content and lively in their movements in the cozy atmosphere of the cabin-like lodge. The light-brown wooden floor itself, so polished, reflected the warm, orange lighting that hovered overhead and painted everything and everyone in a sunset hue while bar stools and smooth black chairs seated people of all shades and heights.

All in all, this place put the "home" back in "home, sweet home."

"Ah...I **love** coming here! Where do you all wish to sit?"

Bonnie frowned, exasperated by Hyunh's overexcitement. She only hoped the guy wouldn't give himself a heart attack.

"We'll find a nice spot. You just worry about setting up."

A gentle surprise-kiss from Bonnie's lips found its way to Mr. Hyunh's cheeks, which reddened noticeably and immediately at the contact.

"Heh...o-okay...," the Vietnamese man tugged at his collar as if he were in a sauna. "I will. Uh, thank you."

The kids merely looked on as Mr. Hyunh walked to the haphazardly, his body swaying as if in a daze. Bonnie barely seemed to notice, too busy as she was looking for a good table.

Helga shook her head with a mixture of amusement and empathy. "Man, just how bad does that guy have it?"

Milo shook _his_ head this time, giving his big sister a pointed look, uttering under his breath, "You're better off not knowing the details."

 _'Or the imagery...,'_ he added to himself.

"Okay, let's see," his mother continued, surprisingly oblivious to the kids' conversation, "Ah ha, that looks close enough to Pooh Bear..."

 _'_ _ **Pooh**_ _? What the heck?'_ Helga felt like having an explanation for that bizarre nickname right now. Luckily, Milo was glad to serve with a smile—or a smirk, in his case.

"What? You can call Arnold "Football Head" and Gerald "Tall Hair Boy" and me "Sparky", but Mom can't call my Dad after a stuffed bear?"

"Well you know what, _Sparky_? I could live out the rest of my life not knowing what those two call each other, especially when no one's listening."

The kids sat down on the stools next to Bonnie as the room gradually darkened. Everyone fell into a hush as the remaining lights converged onto Mr. Hyunh. He cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice strong and compassionate.

"I wrote this song for someone very close to me. It is a person who has seen much and been through even more. It is someone who sometimes has trouble believing in the good of the world, and wonders whether it would be easier to give up and stay still than to continue on and hope. When I started writing this song, I intended it to be something that stood out to that person."

All minds and hearts stilled at those words. Everyone had expected a love song or something else typical of country music.

Not what Hyunh had just described...

Guitar tuned properly, he addressed the audience once more, nearing the microphone to his face.

"My song is Little Boy Blue."

And the world fell silent.

_Little Boy Blue_

_Don't you cry now_

_Wipe those tears and listen_

_To what I've got to say to you_

_The days, they gunna seem rough_

_And you hope someone will take you away_

_The nights, they gunna seem tough_

_And you hope someone saves you someday_

_But then you hear what the people say_

_And you hear the cold, cold world_

_Say you're all alone_

_To darken your bright day_

_Oh no!_

_Little Boy Blue!_

_Little Boy Blue!_

_Listen what I've got to say to you!_

_Never mind what those fools say_

_My dear little blue_

_Little Boy Blue_

_Don't let your heart shy away_

_The days, they gunna seem rough_

_And you hope someone will take you away_

_The nights, they gunna seem tough_

_And you hope someone saves you someday_

_Just look towards the sun_

_When those tears start to fall_

_Look towards the sun_

_And there you'll see me, smile and all_

_Little Boy Blue..._

_Little Boy Blue..._

_You'll always be loved_

_No matter what we weather through_

_Little Boy Blue..._

_Little Boy Blue..._

_Just never forget..._

_How much we love you._

As one, the song and the guitar's voice drifted away into silence.

Helga was dumbstruck.

She had figured this man loved Milo to some sort of degree, yes...but what she just heard...

Those lyrics were on par with her Arnold poems.

Those words right there...they were from the deepest pit of Mr. Hyunh's heart.

And there was no taking them back now.

Still in a daze, Helga turned her head to peer at Milo's reaction.

If possible, the boy looked even more awestruck than her and his mother, who Helga just knew was most likely failing to stem a river of tears right now.

The child did not hesitate.

In a flash to put the lightning to shame, Milo dashed from the table and embraced his little arms around the thick neck of the man, whose arms held onto him and gave him security only a true parent could give a child.

_I love you._

_I love you, too, son._

Mr. Hyunh extended a hand towards Bonnie, inviting the stunned woman to join him and her— _their_ boy.

These three...the way Hyunh held onto the woman and the boy so dearly...the way Bonnie laid her head on his chest...the way Milo swung an arm around Hyunh's shoulders in spite of the man's large frame.

This was what a family really looked like. Happy, cherished, full of love, even if a bit zany...nothing like the neglect and disregard that permeated Helga's own "family."

_'I'll never have that. Not what they have...Milo, you really are lucky. Luckier than me...'_

And she had no place here as far as she was concerned. Even though Helga understood that Milo never intended at all for her to feel so empty, she couldn't help but feel that this all trouble he went through—just for her of all people— was simply generosity wasted.

With well-practiced stealth, she slipped out of the restaurant, no one the wiser about her sudden absence.

No one except the three people who stood in the middle of the cheering...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Helga...things will get better in the next chapter—I promise. :(


	13. Red-Handed and Scot-Free

Outside the diner, Helga sat on a wooden bench next to the entrance—she overlooked it when she first came here with Milo and his family.

On second thought, never mind. Helga preferred not to think about the little tyke and his folks right now.

They hadn't done her wrong by getting all mushy on that stage, per say. She just couldn't put her finger on one, _single_ reason anymore.

At first, she had been sure one of the causes was pure jealousy...and who could blame her?

There had also been a sudden lack of belonging, but then again Helga was already used to that sort of feeling.

Now, though, some other third thing had her bogged down, something that made the iron-fisted queen of the fourth grade feel too vulnerable for comfort.

For the first time in her life, Helga G. Pataki felt hopeless—not alone, not upset, not even unsure—just hopeless.

It was no wonder then why she had her golden locket out in her hands, her sullen, blue eyes staring down at the smiling picture of her beloved.

She was starting to regret not letting that goodie-goodie Football Head come along. His advice, no matter how much it grated on her nerves, would have done her a great deal of good right now.

"Y'know, Arnold," Helga chuckled to the picture mirthlessly, "it's kind of funny. Here I was, worrying that caring for one little kid might blow my whole secret sky high. Instead, he's shown me more of myself than I ever thought possible."

She paused to gaze up at the starry heavens.

"Now more than ever, I'm starting to see how alone I've made myself, how I've let my family's treatment of me control and determine who I choose to be without even knowing it."

Helga closed her eyes. Everything around her felt so final. It only seemed appropriate that her first thought would be on her new relationship with Milo.

He'd taught her so much in so little time... _'But now's time to put the towel up; Helga G. Pataki is back to square one again—as usual.'_

With one single, great exhale, Helga closed her eyes in resignation. "I'm sorry, Arnold."

"Helga...?"

Eyes shooting back open, she jolted out of her musing at the concern-filled sound of Milo's voice. There he was, standing right in front of her, his hands in his pockets. He looked at her through worried eyes, his mouth in a subtle frown.

"What have I told you about sneaking up on me like that?" Helga griped with a scowl once she recovered from the surprise.

Milo scratched the side of his head with one finger, his face briefly taken by wonder. She had him stumped with _that_ question.

"Uh...nothing...?"

 _'Oh right...,'_ Helga realized with a blank look ahead and then a facepalm, _'I'm thinking about Mr. Hyunh.'_

Speaking of Mr. Hyunh, Helga just noticed him and Bonnie standing by the left side of the bench—Helga's left, in more precise terms. She hadn't noticed any of them follow after her.

Oops.

_'Criminy, I swear I'm starting to slip.'_

So busy chiding herself in her mind, the blonde never noticed Bonnie take a seat beside her, Milo taking the girl's opposite side and Mr. Hyunh merely opting for leaning against the wall since the bench could only seat three people.

"Something's on your mind."

Helga removed her hand from her face and stared ahead with an angry glare, refusing to look at the Tahitian woman who just stated that truth.

 _'I will not give her the satisfaction. I will_ not _give her the satisfaction. I will_ **not** _give her the satis—'_

No, she couldn't show her feelings. Then they'd laugh at her! Or tell her to suck her sappiness up and get over it.

She didn't want to risk exposing her weakness.

It just wasn't worth it—just not worth it...right?

"You feel out of place around us, don't you?"

Hyunh's soft-spoken words cracked Helga's stubborn resolve like a sledgehammer to a brick wall. The blonde allowed her face to relax in reluctant defeat as her mind went back and forth over the elder man's words.

How was it that these people kept taking the words right out of her mouth? Helga wasn't sure whether she hated that fact as much as she would have preferred to.

All she knew was that she couldn't win against these three, at least not when they were ganging up on her like this.

_They're not doing what you think they're doing. Give them more credit than that._

Helga resisted the urge to growl. That stupid conscience of hers sounded too much like Arnold.

And boy did it sound right.

"Look, you guys," the blonde finally conceded, rubbing her eyes with one hand, "You don't wanna hear my sob story, alright? You got better things to do than that."

"Maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong," Bonnie admitted as she craned her head down to look Helga in the eyes, "but that's no excuse to leave a fellow oddball out in the cold."

_Fellow oddball...?_

"She is right," Mr. Hyunh added with as much sympathy, "We know how it feels to be outcasts. We did not want you to feel the same way your family does. No one deserves to be alone, especially for so long."

Mr. Hyunh walked to Milo's side and knelt down beside Helga as he said all of this. In spite of the blonde's discomfort, a deep part of Helga's heart warmed up when the man took her hands in his own larger ones.

"We are sorry for making you feel that way."

She felt Bonnie's hand on her shoulder and Milo's arms wrap around her waist. Nobody moved for the next few minutes, everyone's combined emotions melding into a long stream of silent calm.

Helga closed her eyes as she thought over why she didn't shrug all of this contact off. She wanted this—everyone being here for her.

Why couldn't _these_ guys have been her family instead?

The answer to that was simple.

Helga sighed once more, but this time with content as well. _'I get it now. I guess for once Olga really did come through, after all.'_

"Guys...I swear," she shook her head as she gently shook off all of the Mahana family's hands. "You guys are the biggest saps I've ever met."

Hey, she still had a reputation to keep, after all.

Milo didn't mind that joke in the slightest; he even had a dopey grin that would've put Harold to shame right now as he tackled Helga with another hug around the waist.

"We're not just any saps. We're _your_ saps, too, sis!"

Helga chuckled and returned Milo's hug back with one arm.

Mr. Hyunh checked his wristwatch once he felt the love ebbing down a little. "We should head back inside soon. This place closes in about two hours."

Helga gestured a hand to tell the others to go on without her—for now. "Eh, I'll be heading back in soon."

Bonnie turned to her son next. "Milo...what about you; feel like heading back inside?"

Milo looked to his mother then Helga and back. "Nah, I'll stay out here with Helga and keep her company until she feels like going back."

His mother shrugged her shoulders. Today was Saturday. A little leniency wouldn't hurt.

"Alright, we'll order some food in the meantime. Don't take too long, you two."

"Okay, Mom," Milo waved goodbye, Helga just tossing a smile meanwhile, as Bonnie and Hyunh walked back to the entrance, the Tahitian woman's arms wrapped around one of the Vietnamese man's own.

The two adults looked more like a couple than usual.

 _'Like I said,'_ Helga mused in amusement at the pair, _'that guy's got it bad.'_

* * *

Seated on the same stool as earlier, Bonnie leaned her elbows on the polished wooden table in front of her, arms crossed. Her face didn't have a sad expression, per say, but it held a pensiveness that didn't escape Mr. Hyunh's notice.

"Is something the matter?"

Bonnie tapped one of her fingers against the tabletop. She didn't need to look the man's way to know about his worry for her.

"Yiang," Bonnie finally turned her head to look at him, "do you think we should have left them alone?"

Hyunh smiled at her before parting back a stray bang on the woman's face, leaning in, and kissing her deeply and softly. He nuzzled her nose and held her close after they parted lips.

"They will be fine, _cung_. Do not worry."

* * *

Only time moved on.

Everything—and everyone—else appeared to have frozen still.

Helga and Milo, if viewed from far away enough, would look like a pair of life-sized statues at this point.

Both children had been this way ever since the adults left, their smiles and witty moods a façade to the real emotions dwelling beneath the surface.

At last, Milo broke the suffocating silence.

"You don't hate Arnold, do you?"

Helga drew her head back slowly—ever so slowly—and let out a sigh of not frustration but resignation.

No more beating around the bush—now was the time for all the truth and nothing but the truth.

"Fine, Spark—…Milo," she uttered with feigned anger, "In some bizarre way that defies boy nature and maybe even human nature, you've managed to see right through my tough, blustery exterior and into my—"

"Into your mushy, gooey interior..."

For a moment, the tension lessened, paving the way for a few snorts from Helga's end.

"Hey, hey, hey," the blonde retorted, a genuine smirk on her face, jabbing a finger into Milo's chest, "Who's the one coming clean here?"

" _Now_ who's sounding like their parents?" the younger boy returned with a likewise smirk, "Oh by the way, careful how you judge people. Just because I'm a boy doesn't mean I'm slow. That's Harold's department."

 _'Touché,'_ Helga admitted in her head. Okay so maybe not _all_ boys were slow...but, anyway, back to the matter at hand.

"Heh, fair enough...Maybe I _don't_ hate the ol' Football Head all that much. Besides the fact that he's an all-around wet blanket, not to mention that he's an annoying know-it-all and an insufferable Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, he can be a pretty nice guy."

In a rare moment of breeziness (which had been increasing in frequency ever since she got together with Milo), leaned back on the bench, her elbows draped over the back as if she were on vacation.

"Heck, even _I_ gotta admit, he's pretty darn persistent, too! Remember that colossal float from last year?"

Milo merely nodded, holding no desire to interrupt the blonde this time around.

"The guy would _not_ let up on that thing, even after Bob took the reins! Oh no, that little Football Head of yours, Milo, didn't take things standing down like that! When that float went full-speed loony...ah man! You wouldn't believe this was a _nine-year old_ for crying out loud!"

"I remember, Helga. After all," his mouth perked into a smirk, " _I'm_ the one who helped him save your and the others' sorry hides. _'Then again, you were probably too terrified at the time to notice anyway.'_

Now Helga had to admit—she'd never known Milo's involvement in what she had assumed had been a rescue attempted only by Arnold.

The shock passed quickly, though. Helga shook her head and gave the kid an impressed stare.

"Heh...I guess I've owed you one without even knowing, huh? Don't get too smug with yourself, though, Sparky...or are you forgetting that _I'm_ the one who convinced Bob to let Arnold have the spotlight for creating the float?"

"Oh yeah...," Milo lost his smirk in favor for a thoughtful look and turned his gaze to the ground, the wheels in his head turning overtime, "you _did_ do that. You'd have to like Arnold a _little bit_ to have done that at least."

Helga merely smiled. No grin, no smirk, just a simple, honest smile...

Most boys would have shrugged that expression off. Milo knew better...and for that reason, he gave Helga a stare that made him feel ten years older.

"But you don't just like Arnold. You don't even just like him like him. Helga, I know that you..."

"Why, hello, Helga, Milo...! Fancy seeing _you_ two here, of all places..."

Only two words rang through the wide-eyed kids' minds at that godforsaken moment: _'Oh crud.'_

* * *

_Miles away, back in the boardinghouse, in fact..._

Arnold jolted upright on his bed.

Call him kooky or accuse him of having Star Wars on the brain, but something just felt...off—like something major just began.

A disturbance.

A nudge to the right shoulder brought Arnold back to reality. He looked to the side to see Gerald staring at him with a mixture of concern and intrigue.

"Uh...you okay, man?"

Arnold shook his head, just as lost as his best friend. "I don't know."

He rolled his eyes in a confused manner before he set them back on Gerald, as if he were hoping the answer would lie right here in his bedroom.

No luck. Where did that feeling come from?

"I got some sort of... _chill_ for some reason."

He probably just imagined it.

* * *

If only Arnold knew how wrong he was...

Rhonda would've agreed.

As of now, the snotty girl, decked out in a gorgeous, expensive-looking ankle-length dress that billowed at the bottom with ruffles and black stiletto heels, regarded the blonde dynamo and sepia artist with eyes that could've easily belonged to a news reporter that had just found a breaking news story.

And in Rhonda's opinion, this scene could equate to a full-blown scandal.

Recovering from the initial shock of being busted (and ignoring the nagging sound-alike voice in her head that kept chanting "Told ya so, bucko!"), Helga whipped on her best bully face and stood up to face off with the Wellington heiress.

"Oh joy," she grumbled with annoyance, hands akimbo, "right when I thought I was going to get a break from you yahoos. What do ya want, Princess? I ain't got all night."

Rhonda wagged a finger at her reproachfully.

"Now, now, Helga, no need to be hostile...Before the two of you ask, Mommy, Daddy, and I were on our way to an ex _clusive_ yacht party when, much to our dismay, our limo got a bit of a flat. Luckily, though, there so happens to be an auto repair station right next to this restaurant!"

Turning their heads in unison with dread, Helga and Milo followed the direction in which Rhonda's finger was pointed and, much to _their_ dismay, discovered there _was_ indeed such a station right next to the restaurant!

Helga did an instant facepalm.

_'Damn it! How could I not have_ _**considered** _ _that?'_

"And imagine my surprise," Rhonda continued, taking delight in Helga's sloppiness in planning, "when I find two of my classmates, both of which are practically polar opposites of each other and not at each other's throats as people assumed, talking as if they've been best friends for life!"

The rich girl paused to hear Helga's inevitable excuse. She was having too much fun with this.

Helga G. Pataki had no intentions to throw in the towel, though, especially with her reputation on the line.

 _'Alright, steady, Helga, old girl, you can do this.'_ She just needed to keep Rhondaloid off the scent long enough.

"Okay, so the shrimp and I can coexist without igniting World War III," Helga returned in a cool tone, "What's your point?"

"My _point_ , Helga," Rhonda continued smugly, pointing a finger skyward for emphasis, "would be that Milo, here, instead of being scorned and mistreated by the school bully, is actually hanging out with her, joking and smiling even! All of this could only mean one conclusion."

Helga knew very darn well what that conclusion was but masked her apprehension and, judging by Milo's confused stare, could only assume the boy was trying to do the same.

"Which would be _what_ , Rhondaloid?"

"That _the_ Helga G. Pataki is not as tough and powerful as her front suggests. In fact, Milo, thanks to you, I've just seen enough of the real Helga Pataki to last me 'til the end of this year!"

And with those words left to linger in the air, Rhonda turned on her heels and walked off as merrily as if she'd just won the world.

But Helga stood her ground. Hey, she could handle whatever Rhondaloid and her stupid gossip could dish out. That just meant more work for Bessie and her buddies to deal with come Monday morning.

So why did Helga feel her stomach drop at the sly glance Rhonda tossed over the shoulder at her?

"Including a certain something about a particular...Football Head..."

Resolve broke.

Rhonda knew.

She heard.

She heard them.

She heard _it_.

The fatal blow to Helga's school career...

_But you don't just like Arnold. You don't even just like him like him. Helga, I know that you..._

Though she kept her position, Helga couldn't feel her body anymore.

The only parts still functioning were her eyes, which blinked repeatedly with a blankness that almost freaked Milo out, and her mind, which replayed that same, unfinished sentence over and over again.

_'No...This can't be happening...This can't be happening...'_

There...There had to be a way to take it all back!

_There's no way to take it back. She heard it and no visits from Bessie and Five Avengers will be able to change that._

No...Helga could blackmail her then!

_Look down at your hand._

Helga slowly drifted her eyes down.

Her locket could still be seen between her fingers.

She'd been so relaxed before Rhonda took her off guard that she'd forgotten to stuff the locket away in time.

Couple that evidence with Milo's words...

And Helga would be done for.

It was over.

This...

This was _Milo's_ fault! That little shrimp just _had_ to blab everything out for the whole, wide, stinking world to hear! He—

No, put the blame on Bonnie and Hyunh. They helped Milo trick her into letting her guard down! They didn't care about her. They just wanted to—

No, _Phoebe_ —she should have convinced Helga _not_ to come. She should have done what best friends do and talked her out of this! Why didn't she—

No, Olga was responsible the most. _She_ signed Helga up for this stupid sibling program. It was _her_ damn fault! That sugar-coated, self-righteous, self-absorbed—

No, blame Arnold...He...He...He...

_Was to blame for nothing, same with everyone else—think about who's_ _**really** _ _at fault here._

At this epiphany, Helga's mind rave started to crack—and Rhonda's taunting hit where it hurt the most.

"Oh dear," the rich girl pretended to think with one hand under her chin. "I wonder what sort of reaction Arnold will get once he finds out what his bully since Pre-K _really_ thinks of him. Oh the poor dear's heart will be shot!"

Rhonda, so wrapped up in devastating Helga, never bothered to notice Milo's dark yet calculating expression—or Helga's twitching eyelids and tightening fists.

"Not that I'd blame him—I mean _you_ , of all people, having a crush on someone? Just the thought of _that_ would be enough to give somebody nightmares for life."

That did it.

_'Alright, screw it with being elaborate! I'm gonna make sure Princess won't live long enough to tell!'_

"Well, anyway, I've enjoyed our little run-in, but I think I hear my parents calling me already. Those smelly repair people may lack class but at least they know how to get the job done right!"

With a hoity-toity wave of her fingers, Rhonda sauntered away like a queen. Victory tasted so sweet. "Ciao, dolls!"

Helga cracked her knuckles quietly enough so Rhonda couldn't hear, and deliberately stalked after her.

_'Princess, allow me to demonstrate on you what I do with blabbermouths like—'_

"Wait, Rhonda!"

Both girls paused in mid-step at Milo's voice. Though still a little ticked at him for blowing her secret, unintentional as it was, Helga couldn't resist raising half of her monobrow at him in interest.

Only the Pataki girl noticed the wink he tossed her way. He wanted her to play along.

Just what did Sparky have up his sleeve?

"Now, Milo, if there are any details that you feel you need to share with me," Rhonda continued dismissively as she turned back to keep walking away, "they'll have to wait until Monday."

When Milo responded again, his voice came out calm and resolute.

"That's just it. You _can't_ tell people what you heard here."

Rhonda froze in mid-step once more. She rotated again, this time shooting an annoyed look of superiority at the boy that just stood up to her.

"And why, pray tell, should I not?"

"Easy, because Helga enlisted me, that's why."

Nothing came out of Rhonda's mouth for the next few seconds. The girl's mind had hit a proverbial standstill.

"En _listed_ you?" She looked to the blonde for clarification. "Helga, what is he—"

Her question cut off at the hand Helga raised at her.

For one girl, Milo's words made no sense; but for the other, they made everything as clear as day.

Helga G. Pataki was back behind the wheel—how she had no idea but she had no intention to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Just listen, princess. I figured this secret of ours couldn't stay under wraps forever, so we might as well lay it on the table," she stuck a hand out at Milo, "The squirt and I butted heads one too many times, so we made a deal. _I_ lay off the teasing on him until next year so he can settle in, and _he_ keeps his trap shut while he's working for me."

Rhonda simply looked even _more_ confused after that explanation. " _Working_ for you?"

"Are we in the open outdoors or the Grand Canyon? Doi, yes, he's working for me! Mostly surveillance stuff with Phoebe but I'll skip the details..."

Rhonda blinked blankly. Her eyes swiveled back to Milo. Her mind could finally catch up with this development, but still...

"I-Is this true?"

Milo released a convincingly heavy sigh.

"Yeah, it is. Believe it or not, she's turned me into one of her personal lapdogs now. I can't even hang out with Arnold as much as before, let alone tell him what Helga orders me to do."

"Oh my word!"

"That's right, Rhondaloid. Helga G. Pataki here earned herself a new assistant!" The blonde patted Milo on the head as if he were an obedient puppy. "Feel free to spread _that_ around the school!"

Rhonda suddenly narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Something about all this sounded too explainable to be true.

"Wait a second...something doesn't add up here. Why were you two just laughing and joking around like old friends, then?"

Milo, with an expression that had _'duh'_ written all over it, stuck a thumb up at Helga.

"If I'm going to be stuck with this chick for the rest of my elementary school career, I might as well be civil about it."

Helga nodded in approval.

"Unlike _you_ and the other knuckleheads at P.S. 118, this kid knows the drill and would rather keep his head intact. Anymore questions?"

...

"I...I..."

Poor Rhonda. Words simply failed her at this point. Milo and Helga felt sorry for her.

Well... _almost_ in Helga's case...

Milo had a touch more sympathy, so he took Rhonda by the hand and, to Helga's sudden confusion, walked the girl off to the side.

"Listen, Rhonny—can I call you, Rhonny? You've known Helga far longer than I have, so I won't need to remind you of the ramifications of this deal I made with her. To put everything into simple terms, if I don't cooperate—"

Making a squishy noise with his tongue, Milo pounded a fist into his hand.

The meaning of the visual was not lost on Rhonda. Still, the rich girl couldn't help glancing at the blonde out of her peripherals.

"And what if _Helga_ doesn't cooperate?"

"Rhonda," Milo tsked, "if there's one thing you learn pretty quickly under Helga's fist it's this: she is a woman of her word when she's serious. And trust me. She is _dead-on_ serious about this."

 _'How can this all be working out so well?'_ Helga wondered in mystified wonder as she continued to watch this exchange. She'd been sure her deepest, darkest secret would be—

 _'Oh criminy...'_ Helga's eyes widened abruptly at a chilling detail: Milo never explained that part.

Rhonda knew as well.

"But all of that stuff about Arnold...," at this point, anything would satiate the desperate Rhonda's desire for payback, "I heard _that_! And since neither of you denied it, that means—"

"Rhonda..."

Milo's sudden, solemn tone hushed the Lloyd heiress right in her tracks. This kid sounded too much like how her father would whenever he had something serious to say.

Milo looked to Helga.

Helga returned the look.

Everything else stood still.

There was nothing else to say. Rhonda knew too much already. So Helga did something she hoped against hope she wouldn't regret later on.

She nodded.

Milo smiled at his big sister with sympathy, gratitude, and relief. To Rhonda, he merely sighed and hand-gestured her to bend down so they were as close to being face-to-face as possible.

"Let me put your mind at ease. It's true."

Rhonda shot up in triumph. "Ha, I knew—"

"But knowledge comes with a price."

Rhonda looked down at Milo in silence for a few moments. "What are you talking about?"

As Helga watched on, dread dissolving and her guts suspended between confusion and curiosity, Milo whispered something into Rhonda's right ear.

All of a sudden, the Lloyd girl stiffened as if she'd just witnessed a murder scene, her eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates!

Her state of stillness didn't take long to end, though, because she quickly plastered on a face that suggested nothing wrong, her toothy smile especially disarming (and a little creepy in Milo and Helga's opinions).

"R-right, well, uh, on second thought, Helga, never mind about your secret. It wouldn't really be fair if I blab it out against your free will. Sorry to have bothered you two; I _truly_ must be going before my parents worry about where I am. Bye!"

"Uh...whatever, Princess," Helga rolled her eyes at the weakly veiled excuse and half-heartedly saluted goodbye.

"Bye Rhonny!" Milo said with a wave and more frankness.

As soon as Rhonda went out of earshot, the two kids finally dropped their facades and shared a look for a while.

Eventually, a slow round of chuckles came about...then those chuckles shifted into full-blown laughter! Milo even resorted to holding his sides in as he doubled over.

Helga couldn't believe it!

Her secret remained safe.

How Milo pulled it off at the end, she had no idea, but that didn't matter. From what could be discerned from Rhonda's face, Helga had a good feeling the princess wouldn't be blabbing off any dark secrets anytime soon.

_'Man, we really dodged a bullet there.'_

"Not bad, Sparky! Sure, the sulking face was good by itself, but kudos on the visual."

"Well," Milo admitted once he got his laughter back under control, "I figured that Rhonda was the type of lady more into images than words. She _is_ a fashion expert after all."

"Or so she claims...," Helga uttered.

"Anyway, sorry about that little slip-up, Helga," Milo looked unusually ashamed as he rubbed one of his arms out of guilt, "I would've kept my mouth shut if I'd known Rhonda had been watching."

As Shakespeare once said, "all's well that ends well." Helga knew her little brother never meant to expose her secret in the first place. It was all bad timing.

_'Besides, as capable of coming up with harebrained schemes as I am, I'd probably be screwed over if Sparky hadn't covered for me.'_

With an assuring smile, Helga patted the kid on the head. "Ah, quit your apologizing already. Oh, and, uh, Spark—I mean, Milo?"

"Yeah, Helga?"

Much to Milo's bafflement (or maybe not), the blonde rubbed her neck rather sheepishly.

"Thanks."

"No prob, sis."

"Just so you know, we're gonna have to follow up on that assistant thing. Otherwise, the whole school's going to be at _both_ our throats."

"Hmm...," Milo put a hand to his chin. She had a point there. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right!" Helga Pataki had her good, old confidence back. Hands akimbo, she curtly nodded to the restaurant. The night was still young, after all.

"Now are you gonna keep that butt out here all night, worrying over the future, or are you gonna high-tail it back in there so we can enjoy what's left of this kooky trip?"

Milo nodded fervently, his grand grin all Helga needed to know his answer.

"I thought so."

With new springs in their steps, the kids retreated inside for the family and food awaiting them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Satisfied?—Good, that means I did a good job on the climax then. All that's left is the epilogue. I won't say my goodbyes just yet, though; I'll save them for next chapter.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this chapter takes place after the first movie. I do not want any complaints about Arnold and Helga being out of character.

Life returned to normal after that (sort of) fateful Saturday—well as close to normal as you can get in a place like Hillwood.

Helga and Milo still hung out on a regular basis, sometimes by themselves, other times with Phoebe, and even at times with the whole gang. True to her word, Helga worked Milo like a dog, making him do mostly manual labor (i.e. carrying her books to class and helping Phoebe making reservations on the playground).

But Milo was a tough, little trooper; like Phoebe, he took Helga's demands and bossiness in stride because he knew those demands were simply a part of her being her.

Besides, it was fun keeping a secret from the general school population.

And it got even _more_ fun when more "members" joined the inner circle.

Brainy knowing didn't surprise Milo in the least. In fact, being one of the few people Milo felt comfortable around (besides, Arnold, Helga, Phoebe, and Gerald), Brainy didn't need much persuasion to let the younger boy on to how much he knew Helga, personal secrets included.

Lila, on the other hand, _had_ been a major surprise for Milo. He couldn't believe that she knew about Helga's secret in the first place, much less that Helga never told him.

"It's a long story, Sparky," she'd told him one afternoon, "Let's just Little Miss Perfect is sharper than she lets on."

Not that Milo had a problem with Lila—they didn't interact frequently but the young artist knew enough about the country girl that he held a positive opinion about her, her annoying tendencies with "ever so" and slightly overdone sweetness aside.

Besides, he'd gotten a heck of a kick when Lila recounted to him the time she "convinced" Helga to reveal her love for Arnold to her.

Rhonda, to both Helga and Milo's relief, kept her big mouth shut about the whole "Arnold Love" scenario. The rich girl had a hard time believing it at first, but after Milo invited her over for a sleepover (to both her and Helga's chagrin) and she'd seen Helga's home-life firsthand, she grew a bit of sympathy for her irate classmate and backed off of her. Saying the two girls were friends now would have been a stretch, but they were on tamer terms nowadays, at least.

Gerald, being almost as dense as his best friend, never quite made heads or tails of Helga's true perspective of Arnold. He was having enough trouble already with the fact that his best bud's little brother didn't mind hanging out with the Pataki girl, much less that Milo was working for her.

Arnold, not surprisingly, took a while longer than the rest of Helga's confidantes to realize her true feelings for him. It had taken a quest with Milo and Gerald the following summer to save the entire neighborhood from an unscrupulous mall developer, including a tense confrontation with Helga—a.k.a. "Deep Voice—to finally drill the message through the guy's thick skull, that Helga didn't exactly hate him like she lead him and most of everyone else to believe all of these years.

Even then, the young Football-Head _still_ had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that Helga more than _liked him_ liked him, let alone loved him. The guy's stubbornness made Milo want to bang his own head against a wall.

Seriously, why were most guys made this dense?

Milo simply thanked God he didn't share this problem. Still, what would it take to fully convince Arnold of Helga's feelings for him?

Thankfully, an answer _did_ come eventually—the following school year, in fact.

A notice for a writing contest...the prize?

A trip of the winner's choice...

And guess who won.

* * *

_A month later, the night after the contest results..._

"You should be considering yourself very lucky right now that you're only kissing an image of Shadow and not the real thing, Arnold."

Verdant eyes shot open to reveal a scowling hedgehog image starring Arnold right in the face!

Arnold pulled back immediately.

"Mm, mm, mm, mistaking a picture of Shadow the Hedgehog for Helga G. Pataki...and then kissing it? Now I _know_ I've seen everything. See Milo? Your brother has become one sick, sick boy."

"Don't remind me."

Mortified beyond belief, Arnold slowly turned his head to discover his best friend and little brother eyeing him with looks mixed with amusement and sympathy.

"Uh, how long have you guys been standing there?"

"Long enough, my friend...," Gerald replied before throwing his hands out in exasperation, "Arnold, why don't you just face facts? You've fallen head over heels for Helga G. Pataki!"

Gerald _really_ had to shiver a bit after saying _that_. It felt too much like saying the Sun had stopped shining or the Jolly Ollie Man had stopped selling Mr. Fudgy Bars.

Milo rolled his eyes at the older boy's reaction. The truth wasn't _that_ hard to swallow.

"C'mon Gerald, the fact that Arnold's in love with Helga shouldn't be _that_ shocking. He _is_ always the guy trying to prove to the world how nice of a person Helga truly is."

Gerald nodded at the younger boy's point, albeit rather begrudgingly. "Yeah, you're right...in a weird, screwball way that defies all human logic."

Milo shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, I try. Besides, love's not supposed to be logical. Helga taught me that herself."

"And people wonder how it is you two manage to get along."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

That suspicious question earned Milo a smirk and a roll of the eyes from Gerald, who smiled down at him knowingly but not unkindly.

"It means that you and Helga are both some super-crazy people, and I've got a feeling your brother is going to be joining you before too long."

Instead of getting annoyed like Gerald expected him to, Milo grinned and put his hands behind his head in a nonchalant manner, "Hey, the more, the merrier!"

"Milo, Gerald," Arnold interrupted loudly enough to regain the other boys' attention, getting tired of him and his emotional turmoil being sidelined, "come on! I am _not_ in love with Helga G. Pataki!"

Milo sarcastically signaled an okay sign with his fingers, grin withstanding. "Okay then, bro."

While Gerald merely rolled his eyes again, "Whatever you say, man."

Arnold shook his head. He no longer knew who to be more frustrated with—Gerald and Milo or himself.

_'Why am I trying so hard to deny this anyway? I mean, yes, of course Helga's a good person deep down. I just know she is and she's even proved it! But...still, she's my bully and I'm her victim...and now she comes right out of the blue and tells me that she loves me?'_

"Arnold..."

The aforementioned looked to his side at the sound of his little brother's voice, nudged out of his thought process. Milo had seated himself beside Arnold, his face no longer teasing but now full with sympathy and understanding, tinged with a shot of realism. Arnold couldn't help subconsciously thinking of Bonnie at this point.

"You and I both know Helga's not the easiest person to get to know. But we also know there's more to her than the bully everyone knows her as. Even if you two are still too young to know what love is, isn't it worth a shot, giving her a chance, I mean?"

Arnold looked away and stared into deep space, his mind drifting back to the contest he'd won. When he had begun writing his essay, his only motivation had been a slim chance of him finding his parents again.

But maybe Milo had just given him _another_ motivation...

* * *

( **"Ben"** by Michael Jackson)

_A week later, in the jungles of San Lorenzo..._

"So...finally settled things with ice cream?"

Helga, wiping off the sweat from brow and parting way her loosened, flowing hair out of her eyes, caught sight of the familiar voice's source: Milo sitting almost at eye-level with her thanks to the thick, low-hanging, sturdy branch he sat on. The blonde quickly noticed Phoebe standing almost directly below the boy, the Asian girl's arms crossed.

What she noticed even faster were the knowing smirks on both of her friends' faces.

"Ice cream...?"

The blonde, in the rush of everything—Arnold's reunion with his parents, the long, ensuing battle with La Sombra, Milo's own role in Arnold's prophetic destiny being fulfilled, Bonnie's second child being born, and, most importantly, Arnold reciprocating his feelings for her—had utterly forgotten.

"Why, yes," Phoebe reaffirmed, placed her fingers together in the same meditative manner she'd done on the day Milo literally walked into Helga's life. "The one you _confessed_ that you love..."

Helga caught onto the hint in record time and smirked at her two closest friends in return. With her hands, the blonde suddenly made a motion as if she were churning ingredients in a bowl together.

"You gotta mix it up well and let it sit for a while."

Phoebe and Milo gave blank looks at that unusually casual answer, droning at the same time, "What?"

A still smirking Helga said no more as she walked away, briskly making her way to a certain do-gooder and his folks.

Not that any further explanation had been necessary...

Her friends realized what she meant only a few seconds after her departure. Phoebe instantly blushed and put her hands to her mouth to stifle a gasp in vain. She'd already known how suggestive her longtime friend could be...

But wow...

Milo simply laughed.

Laughed long and loud...

Wiping a tear from one of his eyes, the boy shook his head.

"Never a dull moment with you, sis," Milo smiled to himself before hopping off of the branch and leaving to join the rest of his family.

"Never a dull moment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks!
> 
> By the way, that little joke Helga made about mixing ingredients came from a Jungle Movie comic I'd seen on Deviantart. I forgot the title of it, though, so I'll have to look it up again.
> 
> Oh well.
> 
> Thanks again, goodbye, sayonara, ciao, and adios!


End file.
